Potter
by Water Mage
Summary: One change in the past can cause a ripple effect, changing the timeline. A baby, Harry, being adopted by a crime lord is one. How will Hogwarts be different with a gun wielding, Harry PotterMcKnight? The heir to England's underground crime empire.
1. Prologue

KillianDisclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter either. It belongs to its creator J.K. Rowling and probably Warner Bros. too. I'm not too sure about that. This piece of literature is simply the work of a humble fan. I also credit Laurell K. Hamilton and Jim Butcher for various themes, subjects, or references that I may use. It won't be a crossover but certain elements from the series will be used.

* * *

:Author Notes:

This will be leaning more toward alternate reality. It will have the same characters just a different spin on things. If you're not a fan or strong cursing or maybe even violence and bloodshed then there is a good chance that this story isn't for you.

* * *

**Potter**

Prologue

By: Water Mage

The passing week had been a strange one. Owls had been seen flying out in broad daylight and fireworks had been shooting into the sky from various locations all unknown. No one knew that this was because the magical community was celebrating the defeat of one of the darkest wizard's in history, Lord Voldemort. On number four, Privet Drive something unusual too had happened.

It was only at the beginning of the last week that the occupants of the home had awoken to a strange sight. There on their front porch wrapped in a baby blue blanket was their baby nephew, fast asleep. In his chubby little hand was a letter, explaining what had happened to his parents and how he was to be in their care from now on. Vernon Dursley had flown off into a rage, but the couple resigned themselves to their fate and took in little baby Harry. Their own son Dudley was about the same age as Harry. As the week passed, one could see that the couple favored Dudley and didn't give a damn about Harry. To them he was a _freak_. An _abnormality_ like all of his kind was.

The sun had set hours ago and the stars were out. The moon shined its light down onto the sleeping neighborhood of Privet Drive, giving light to the things in the dark. Illuminated by the light were two men. They were dressed in all black. They wore black boots, leather dusters, pants, and shirts. They stood in front of number four, Privet Drive with stoic looks. Without words they stealthily moved toward the house and within moments the lock on the front door was picked and they were inside. The house was dark as they walked in. Quietly the two men made their way upstairs.

They looked in through the door nearest them to see a nursery. Inside were two cribs. One looked new and very expensive, while the other was old and very in need of repair. The men didn't ponder this. Silently they continued on their to the largest bedroom of the house. On a large king size bed slept Vernon Dursley and his wife Petunia.

Vernon Dursley snapped his eyes open as he felt a hand cover his mouth. His frightened eyes looked into a pair of cold, calculating blue eyes. The man slowly raised a finger to his lips, signaling him to be quiet. With that same finger he pointed to Vernon's right. Vernon Dursley whimpered at the sight of another men, holding a 9mm handgun to a sleeping Petunia's temple.

"Mr. McKnight wants his money, Dursley," said the man coldly.

Vernon knew now who these guys were. Unknown to anyone, Vernon had borrowed money from a widely known crime lord to pay back the debts he owed to numerous people. The crime lord's name was Killian McKnight. Even the police feared to cross the man whose power rivaled that of the royal family's. Killian had a hand in all major businesses in England. Money was power and Killian had an underground empire made from the millions of dollars he had. Borrowed money from Killian was always paid back. Sometimes even with one's life or blood.

Vernon gulped and started speaking quickly, as the hand was lifted from his mouth. "I don't have it yet—"

The man reared back and punched Vernon. A sickening crunch was heard, as the nasal bone in Vernon's nose was broken. Blood gushed out spilling onto the pristine white sheets. Petunia stirred, but remained in deep, oblivious sleep that could only come from a good dose of Valium and brandy. The man smiled at Vernon. "That's not a good enough answer, fat boy."

"I swear I'll have him the money!" said Vernon panicking, his voice becoming higher in pitch due to fright.

There was a soft _click,_ as the safety of the gun that was held to Pentunia's head was pulled back. The other man glared at Vernon from across the bed. "How do we know that? How about we just take your wife here for collateral…"

"NO!" said Vernon in alarm. His brain started to run in overdrive. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. Before he knew what he was saying he started speaking. "I can prove I'll have your money. I'll give Killian my nephew as a sign of good faith."

The black garbed men looked at each other from across the bed that separated them. The one holding the gun shrugged nonchalantly. The man standing above Vernon made a motion with his hand. "Go and get him then." Faster than Vernon could see the man had a gun out and aimed at his head. "I swear on my mother's grave if you try something we will kill your wife. They'll find her body in Wales, in a ditch, mutilated and unrecognizable except for her dental records. Is that clear, fat boy?"

Vernon nodded hastily, and ran from the room. He returned quickly with Harry sleeping peacefully in his thick arms. Vernon dutifully handed the baby off. "His name is Harry Potter and his parents died a week back. We were to look after him."

"When you pay what you owe plus interest, then you will get your nephew back."

Vernon shook his head. His eyes looked frightened and panicked. He tried to smile but failed miserably. "No. Killian can keep him. A gift… yeah a gift."

"Are you fucking serious?" questioned the man, holding the gun to Petunia's head. Seeing Vernon nod his head in agreement. His lips curled into a sneer of disgust at the pale Dursley. He shook his head and walked from the room. His partner holding Harry carefully followed him out quickly, not before giving Vernon an equal look of disgust. They walked outside not saying a word to each till they got into their black BMW that was parked a little away from the house.

"I can't believe him, Dylan," said the man, driving the car. He looked to the passenger seat where his partner was slowly rocking baby Harry.

Dylan shook his head, gazing down at Harry with tenderness. "I know, Todd. How could he just give up his nephew like that? My parents may had beaten me till I was unconscious, but they never would have gave me up to a stranger."

Todd nodded. "I know what you mean. God, what a fucked up man! The kid doesn't even look a year old. He must have some real ice running through his veins. And I thought _we_ were cold blooded."

"Obviously we still have some kind of morals," smirked Dylan.

They drove through the city of London till they pulled into a parking garage of a tall glass skyscraper. They talked quietly as they made their way up the elevator to the top floor of the building. The top floor was decorated tastefully with all new modern furniture. It was aesthetically pleasing to the eye and lacked warmth, looking too pristine, too coldly functional. They showed their clearance badges to security and they entered Killian's office. Killian sat behind a metallic steel desk. Behind him was a long window that overlooked the entire city of London. Killian stood up, smoothing out the wrinkles in his gray Armani suit. Killian was a tall man with long black hair that was tied back. He looked young only about twenty-four. His eyes were dark green and slightly exotic looking, telling all of his Asian descent.

Dylan and Todd bowed before their boss. Killian walked toward them with a small smile. "What does Dursley have to say? Let me guess he didn't have my money."

"Yes, sir. He didn't have it, but he wanted us to give you this," said Dylan, handing a surprised Killian a sleeping baby. "This is his nephew Harry Potter. He said his parents died last week and he was told to care for him. And the fat bastard offered him off the first chance he got."

Killian gazed down at Harry, softly brushing away the bangs that fell across his brow. "He's so small," he whispered softly, not taking his eyes off Harry. "What's this? Its some kind of scar or something." He voiced, touching his finger to the lightning shape mark on Harry's forehead.

"Get this boss," said Todd, shaking his head at the absurdity of it. "He's giving you the baby. He doesn't even want the little one back."

Killian snapped his head up. "Are you sure?" At their nods he continued. "Why on Earth would he willingly give up his nephew? If he paid me my damn money I would have given him back. So why then?"

"I don't know, sir," shrugged Dylan in puzzlement. "He was really eager to have him gone come to think of it."

Killian sighed, shaking his head. "No matter." He smiled widely, as he looked down again at Harry. "I will adopt Harry and make him my son. My heir. It just seems right to do so."

Little Harry awoke at the sound of voices. He yawned tiredly, opening his emerald green eyes. Killian smiled even wider and laughed as Harry caught his finger in his grip and started to shake it. Harry's innocent laughter filled the office and their hearts.

Killian ran his hand through Harry's black hair. "How would you like to be my son?"

Harry gurgled in response, making the three men smile. Killian laughed heartily. "I guess that's a yes then. I'm going to be your daddy."


	2. Beneath the Sky

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter either. It belongs to its creator J.K. Rowling and probably Warner Bros. too. I'm not too sure about that. This piece of literature is simply the work of a humble fan.

* * *

:Author Notes:

This will be leaning more toward alternate reality. It will have the same characters just a different spin on things. If you're not a fan or strong cursing or maybe even violence and bloodshed then there is a good chance that this story isn't for you.

* * *

"There is nothing beyond the sky. It simply is and goes on and on. And we play all of our games beneath It." Allie Crawford, _Taken_

**Potter**

Chapter One: Beneath the Sky

By: Water Mage

Almost ten years had passed since that day Harry was given to Killian McKnight as a gift. Killian had adopted Harry that very same week. What normally would have taken a much longer process took only a few days for Killian to adopt Harry. All he had to do was simply call in and pull certain strings. Nothing was too out of reach for a McKnight. Harry was brought up knowing that same statement. Killian had raised Harry as if he was his own flesh and blood son, spoiling him with all the finest thing's money could buy. It was only because of the company around him that Harry never let any of it go to his head.

From a young age, Harry had known he was adopted and where his father's money came from. It was never a secret that was kept from him. The constant assassination attempts to he and his fathers life was a normal thing for Harry growing up. With Harry being Killian's heir many people wanted him taken out. All such attempts had failed thanks to the Archangels, Killian's specially trained group of men that guarded he and Harry like bodyguards. Even when the Archangels weren't around Harry and Killian were a formidable pair. Under his father Harry had been trained in the diverse ways of martial arts. Also under his father's two best assassins Todd and Dylan, Harry had been taught how to shoot firearms and numerous ways to kill a person with one.

Harry awoke, yawning loudly. He rolled onto his back trying to remember the dream he had. It had been so real almost like a memory that was out of reach. There had been a man with black hair who kept transforming into a big, black dog trying to get him to laugh. The more he tried to remember the dream the more it faded away into the further recesses of his mind.

Harry slowly got out of bed and walked across his room, tripping over shirts on the way, to the bathroom. Tiredly he began to brush his teeth and do his other morning rituals. He ran a brush through his black, long hair that fell between his shoulder blades. With well-practiced hands he tied it back into a ponytail. It was a tradition in the McKnight family that all males tie their hair back. Harry went back into his room, got dressed, and put on his glasses then set off downstairs to the dining room.

The two Archangels that guarded the door smiled at Harry in greeting as he entered the dining room. The dining room was very large just like the rest of the mansion he lived in. Typical wooden furniture decorated the room. In the middle of the room was a long table that was used for all meals. Harry walked to the end of the table where his father was currently reading the morning newspaper.

"Hi, Dad," greeted Harry, plopping down in the chair nearest Killian.

Killian put down the paper, smiling at Harry. "Good morning, kiddo."

Harry rolled his eyes good naturally at the old nickname. Killian had been calling Harry kiddo for as long as he could remember. kiddo"Do we have anything planed today, Dad?" asked Harry, eating the food that was placed in front of him by the kitchen worker.

Killian paused, thinking over his schedule. "There is a meeting I want you to sit in on."

"Awww, Dad!" Harry whined. He stopped complaining and began to smile mischievously. With over exaggerated movements he started pouting and for good measure he brought out the puppy eyes.

Killian shook his head, smiling at Harry. "That's not going to work, kiddo."

Harry looked at his father as if appraising him. "The force is strong in you, it is."

"How about this," said Killian, laughing at Harry's joke. "After the meeting I'll take you to the amusement park."

Inside Harry was jumping up and down at the prospect of going out with his father. Outside he pretended to think over the offer. "You drive a hard bargain, Batman. Throw in some cotton candy and you have yourself a deal."

"Deal," replied Killian, he smiled as Harry stuck out his little hand so they could shake on it.

One would have thought the two were just an average family if they witnessed them together. They were just like any other father and son. They laughed and joked around. The only thing that separated them from a normal family was the crime, millions of dollars, and constant threats on their life.

Two hours later Harry was bored as hell. Every time he sat in on his father's meeting's he always got bored. Harry knew that one day he was going to take over for his father, and he had to know how the business was run, but right now he was eleven and he really didn't give a flying fuck about mergers or how much stock was invested in pharmaceuticals. The only thing that got Harry through the meetings was the faces that he made at the Archangels. When no one was looking they made faces back at him.

Harry sat up straighter in his seat, as his father looked his way. He gave a weak grin and turned his focus back on. Killian gave the man who sat on the other side of the table a hard look. In his hands were reports about money that had been taken from one of his companies. There was only one person who had access to this certain company's finances.

"Rupert, do you want to tell me why the fuck am I short a quarter of a million dollars?" Killian asked, staring hard at Rupert Thomas, one of his oldest firm directors.

Rupert gasped, clenching the armrest of his chair tightly. Fear started to make its way into his gaze. Harry placed a hand in front of his mouth to conceal his smile. This was what he had been waiting on. Now things were going to get interesting.

"No—No… I mean I don't know, sir," Rupert stuttered.

Killian leaned forward in his seat, leveling Rupert with a cold stare. His green eyes stared into the frightened brown ones. "Why in the hell are you lying you son of bitch? If you don't tell me in five seconds where the fuck my money is... I'll kill your fat ass and then burn down your house. With your family in it."

"One."

"Mr. McKnight…"

"Two."

"Sir, I swear I don't know!"

"Three."

"Please, I'm telling you I don't know!"

"Four."

"Alright! Alright! I took it...All of it...I was going to put it back...I swear."

Killian sat back in his chair. He smiled at Rupert who was sweating and shaking in his seat as if it were cold in the room. Rupert was so frightened that he couldn't even meet Killian's gaze. Killian tapped his fingers against the wooden mahogany table as he did sometimes when he was coming to a decision.

"Rupert...Rupert...Rupert," said Killian, sighing. "I really thought you could be trusted. I guess not." Killian gestured to the two Archangels that stood on either side of the door. They stepped from their post and moved silently behind Rupert. Killian's eyes turned cold and his voice grew hard. "…Kill him."

The guards grabbed Rupert and roughly hefted him up from his seat. Rupert turned scared eyes to Killian. "I thought you said if I told you, I and my family would be spared."

"Did I?" questioned Killian, cocking his head. "I must have meant just your family."

He made a motion with his hand and the guards dragged Rupert from the room. His terrified screams could be heard as they dragged his struggling body down the long hallway. Harry turned to his father, grinning from ear to ear. He was practically bouncing in his seat from his contained excitement. Killian rolled his eyes, smiling at his son's actions. He knew what Harry was anxious about.

"Can we go now, Dad?" asked Harry, grinning. "Remember you promised."

"I know. I know. Let me change clothes first," he replied, gesturing to the black suit that he wore.

An hour later they were ready to go. Killian ordered the Archangels to remain at the mansion, since he wanted time alone with his son. He and Harry could take care of themselves when they had to. For extra safety, Killian had two Glocks secured in holsters under the leather jacket he wore… just in case

It was a very sunny Saturday afternoon and the amusement was crowded with couples on dates and families looking for a good time. Harry was having such a wonderful time, since he hadn't been to an amusement park in over a year and that hadn't even been with his father. It was with his class and they were on a field trip to see the intricate workings of park rides. Everything was going perfect, but like most perfect things it was too good to last.

Harry and Killian were riding the Ferris wheel, and right as they got to the top it suddenly lurched to a stop. Harry's jaw dropped as he looked down to the ground at the confused and baffled seeming park workers. "Bloody hell! Dad, we're stuck up here."

"I kind of figured that when the ride stopped, Harry," answered Killian dryly.

Harry blushed rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "Oh, yeah. That's right." Harry glared at the unmoving ride. "I really wanted to go on more rides with you before the park closed. I wish this damn thing would work!" he said, hitting the side of the metal cart with his fist.

Harry felt a tingling sensation in his spine and something like static electricity spark from his fingers. The ride jerked and suddenly it began to move again like it had never stopped in the first place. Killian gave Harry a strange look. Harry mirrored the look with a confused one of his own. He shrugged helplessly.

"That was… strange," commented Killian, as they walked through the park after they got the off the Ferris wheel.

"It was just a coincidence," stated Harry, talking more to himself than to his father. Killian gave him a strange look, but didn't voice his thoughts on the matter.

They returned home in time to eat a late dinner. As they ate at the dining room table an insistent tapping from the window disturbed their meal. They looked to the window and blinked in surprise seeing a large brown-feathered owl flying outside the window. In its beak it had a brown envelope. Killian gestured to one of the Archangels in the doorway to let the bird in. The window was opened and the bird flew straight to Harry. Soon as the bird's target was seen, four guns were trained on it just in case.

Harry took the offered envelope cautiously. On the front was his name written in green ink. He ripped it open and read the contents with curiosity.

* * *

HOGWARTS SCHOOL_  
of _WITCHCRAFT _and_ WIZARDRY_  
_Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE_  
_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,_  
_Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Potter-McKnight,_  
_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted_  
_at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find a list of_  
_all necessary books and equipment._  
_Term begins on September 1. We await you owl by no later_  
_than July 31._  
_Your sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Minerva McGonagall,  
_Deputy Headmistress_

_

* * *

_Harry's first reaction was to laugh at the absurdity of the letter, but then he started to really think the letter over. Strange things he never could explain had often happened around him. He never thought it was magic though. He could remember plenty of times that weird things had happened.Once, Harry had fallen out of a tree in the backyard. Instead of falling hard to the ground, he had seemed to go in slow motion and he softly landed on the ground as if he had floated light as a feather. He never thought about this event through. Harry had simply attributed it to his senses being skewed because he was falling from a twelve-foot drop.

Another time, Harry had been but a small child. His father had to go to work and leave Harry for the day. Harry didn't want his father to go and the next thing he knew his father was screaming into his phone about why didn't any cars in his garage work or was mysteriously out of gas. That day, had been the best. Killian had stayed home and played games all day with Harry.

And just today was another example of weirdness happening around him. He wanted so badly for the Ferris wheel to start working and it did. Harry's jaw dropped as these memories plus more flashed across his mind in a steady stream of odd events. Killian took the letter from a stunned Harry's hands. He read it over frowning at its contents. He looked back to his son who still hadn't moved yet.

"Harry?" he asked concerned.

Harry's brain couldn't deal with this information. Instead of focusing on the dilemma at hand, like him being a wizard. It focused on something else less important. Harry looked at his father in disbelief. "Who in the hell would call a school, Hogwarts!?"


	3. A Destiny, My Destiny

kiddokiddoDisclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter either. It belongs to its creator J.K. Rowling and probably Warner Bros. too. I'm not too sure about that. This piece of literature is simply the work of a humble fan.

* * *

:Author Notes:

This will be leaning more toward alternate reality. It will have the same characters just a different spin on things. If you're not a fan or strong cursing or maybe even violence and bloodshed then there is a good chance that this story isn't for you.

* * *

""It's an adventure, great. But for me, it's destiny. It is something that I can't change, something that I can't escape. I'm stuck!" Buffy Summers, _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_

**Potter**

Chapter KillianTwo: A Destiny, My Destiny

By: Water Mage

Blake Adams, an Archangel, stiffened at the name of Hogwarts that erupted from Harry's lips. Killian saw the movement and narrowed his eyes at his longtime personal guard. Blake was a tall muscular man about thirty with blond hair and ice blue eyes. Killian looked from the owl perched on the table to Harry who was staring into space with a glaze look in his eyes, then finally at Blake with a raised eyebrow.

"Blake, you know that I can detect certain things by body language," said Killian to Blake who stood in the doorway with the three other Archangels on guard.

Blake's eyes widened and he paled slightly at being addressed directly. "I know, sir."

"Is there something you want to tell me? You obviously know something judging by your reaction to the word… Hogwarts."

"I think I would rather tell you in private," said Blake softly, gesturing to his fellow guards who stood beside him.

Killian nodded and with a gesture the guards nodded and left the room, closing the doors behind them. Blake walked across the dining room and joined Harry and Killian at the long dining table. Blake shifted slightly as Killian trained his piercing green gaze onto him. Harry had finally snapped out of his thoughts to grace Blake with a look of supreme curiosity.

"Now, what do you know?" questioned Killian. "What is this," he waved his hand to the owl and the letter. "About?"

"My daughter received an owl like that a year ago when she was eleven," started Blake slowly. " It was the same exact letter that young Harry just received."

"So, the letter is for real?" said Harry interrupting Blake's sentence. His eyes were wide and held a wide range of emotions stemming from curiosity and a gleam of… hope.

Blake nodded in response. "Yes, the letter is real. The school, magic, witches, wizards… the whole thing is real, I assure you. There is a hidden magical community living right beside us, unknown to any of the public. My daughter is an honest to god, wand wielding, spell-enchanting witch and has been attending Hogwarts since last year. This will be her second year at the start of the upcoming September term. If you look there should be another letter telling you about school supplies and how to attain them."

Harry eagerly dug into the envelope to look for the papers. Sure enough there were two additional letters that he didn't notice earlier in his haste to open the acceptance letter. The first paper told him the books and supplies he would need for the school year and the second paper told him how he could purchase them. He frowned as he read about going to some place called the Leaky Cauldron then into a place called Diagon Alley and finally how to exchange money for gold coins at a bank named Gringotts. Once finished Harry handed over the papers to his father to look over. Killian read over the papers then looked again to Blake who was sitting patiently waiting to be addressed.

Killian put down the papers. "Is this safe?" he asked giving his son a brief look of concern.

He could tell by the glint in Harry's eyes that he was truly interested in learning about the newly informed magic that has been inside him all this time, unknown. He himself was intrigued of the possibility of a whole new world that was full of magic.

"I had the same question when my daughter was accepted. Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster, assured me Hogwarts was the safest place in England. He gave me a brochure, as well as an informational packet concerning the school. According to the _Magical_ _Education_ _Board_, Hogwarts is the top school of magic in the country."

Killian paused considering the information. He looked at Harry and the black haired boy was looking at him with a pleading expression. Harry desperately wanted to go to Hogwarts. The opportunity to learn magic was every child's dream.

"Can I see you a moment," Killian requested, looking towards Blake.

The man nodded and together the two of them adjourned to a quiet corner of the room. Harry watched the scene with open curiosity. Obviously his father was grilling the Archangel about the school and more of the hidden magical world. His father was _very_ protective of him, always putting extra security on him when he deemed necessary to keep him from harm, which _was_ necessary considering how many times threats had been made to his life in the past eleven years.

Killian came back with Blake trailing behind him. "I've decided that you can go."

"_Yeah!"_ yelled Harry excitedly pumping his fist into the air. He jumped up from his chair and threw his arms around his father, hugging him with all his strength. Killian laughed at his exuberance, hugging him back with equal force.

"Now," said Killian, pulling out of the hug. "I want you to go on and go to sleep. I'll send our reply with the owl, seeing as that's how they deliver mail in the magical community. Tomorrow we'll wake up bright and early to go to Diagon Alley."

Harry nodded quickly then paused for a moment. "Um… Is Blake going to be there? 'Cause we need someone to show us around."

"Of course," answered Killian. "He and his daughter will meet us at the Leaky Cauldron."

"Thank you so much, Dad!" said Harry hugging his father one last time before dashing out the door.

He ran to his room, shedding his clothes and taking out his hair band, that he used to pull his hair into a ponytail, as he went to his bed. A smile was on Harry's face as his head hit his pillow. He couldn't believe that he was actually going to go to a school of magic. It was so unbelievable and yet it seemed so right. Almost like this place, _Hogwarts_, was the place he was supposed to be. Now, his next challenge was to say the school's name without having his lip curl up in disgust.

Harry jolted from his dream, bolting up in his bed. He put a hand to his sweating forehead breathing raggedly. Vaguely he could remember screaming, someone chanting, and a lot of green light. If he concentrated enough he could recall a female voice praying to someone or something named Tuatha Dé Danaan.

"To much jolt before bed," muttered Harry wiping his brow. "I really have to cut back on that soda."

Harry pulled himself out of bed and groggily did his morning routine. He slipped out of his room, while tying his hair back into its traditional ponytail. Harry was often glad that all males in the McKnight family were bound by custom to tie their hair back. He had seen some of his childhood pictures of himself with short hair and it was not a pretty sight. According to his father, when Harry was a child his jet-black hair absolutely refused to stay down no matter what he did to it. Harry had thought he was joking till he pulled out the pictures.

His father was in his usual place in the dining room, paper in hand, and half eaten breakfast on a plate in front of him. Harry had enough sense to know that his father wouldn't be ready to leave till after he had finished eating. So when the cook, Mary, delivered his food he gobbled it up under the amused gaze of Killian.

"I see you're done," said Killian dryly, as Harry dabbed at the corners of his mouth with his napkin. He glanced at his watch and said, "And in a record breaking two minutes too."

Harry smiled up at his father cheekily. "What can I say, I'm a growing boy. So can we go now seeing as we're both done eating."

"It is about time that we should be heading out," agreed Killian.

He folded his paper and stood up. Harry got up and they walked to the direction of the garage. While other people had two car garages and single car garages the McKnights had a whole building dedicated to automobiles. There was a section for sports cars, family cars, motorcycles, racing cars, and vintage cars. There was even a gas pump outside on the side building. They got into a blue jaguar, which was Harry's favorite next to the BMW's.

Harry glanced out the window behind them as they drove along a main road. "I don't see Archangels behind us," he said, referring to the fact that the usual black SUV carrying the Archangels was nowhere in sight.

"We don't want to attract any unwanted attention by having them around us. Blake will be there and he's qualified enough to watch out for both of us," replied Killian. He lifted his black duster revealing two Desert Eagle pistols secured in holsters on his chest. "Just in case."

Harry nodded turning his eyes back on the road. While Harry knew how to shoot, his father had forbid him from carrying a gun until he was sixteen and responsible enough to carry it without accidentally shooting his foot off. The drive from the McKnight Estate to downtown London wasn't a long one, seeing as they lived just on the outskirts of the city. Harry could feel anxiety build within his gut as they walked along the street among the crowds of people. Soon he was about to see his first glimpse of the magical world.

"What was the name of the establishment we need to go to?" asked Killian, glancing at the different shops and stores. People bustled about on the streets going about their business no one suspecting that these two were looking for a way into a world full of magic. To the passerby's they saw just a father and son looking at the sights of London.

Harry reread the letter in his hands that give directions on where to go. "The Leaky Cauldron."

"I don't see it."

Harry's eyes slid from a bookstore then to a record shop. Suddenly a building he hadn't noticed stood out from in between the two shops. It was a tiny, old looking pub with a run down sign that proclaimed_, the Leaky Cauldron_ hanging above the door. The people hurrying past it paid it no mind. They merely walked past the establishment as if not seeing it at all. Harry had a feeling that they didn't and only those born with magic could see it, hence the reason that his father hadn't seen it.

"There is it, Dad," pointed Harry.

Killian followed Harry's hand and for the first time he stared at the pub that was in front his eyes. He knew for a fact that that pub hadn't been there before. He grabbed Harry's hand and steered them inside the shop before people could ask him why was standing there gawking at air.

The inside was a little better than the outside. It was dark and shabby but it was an overly friendly atmosphere. Here and there people occupied the tables, talking and laughing without restraint. They paid them no mind as Harry and Killian stood in entranceway gazing about. Evidently people staring curiously about was a common thing that happened here.

"Its like we stepped back in time. All we need now is Merlin to make an appearance," muttered Harry. He looked over to the corner to see Blake sitting at the table with a young girl. He was waving wildly to get their attention.

"Hello, sir and Harry," said Blake as they seated themselves at the table. The girl beside him nudged him with her elbow.

"This is my daughter Rilana."

The girl scowled at the name. "I prefer Riley. I'm a second year Gryffindor," she said the second part to Harry. "I hear you're starting at Hogwarts this year."

Harry nodded liking this girl already. Her outgoing nature appealed to him. She was the same height as him. Her hair was pale blond and pulled back into a braid and her eyes were a dull hazel. Vaguely Harry could hear his father and Blake engage in conversation.

"That's right, I'll be a first year. I'm Harry Potter-McKnight, by the way."

Riley's brows furrowed in puzzlement. "Harry Potter," she mumbled to herself. "I've heard that name before somewhere."

"You've probably heard your Dad talk about me," supplied Harry.

Riley shrugged and answered, "I guess your right…"

They spent the next few minutes talking of Hogwarts. She filled him in on the Four Houses and their different qualities and traits. He also learned of the wizarding world's main sport, which was played on broomsticks, called Quidditch.

"We should be going now," said Blake, leading them out the back door to a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing there but a trash can and overgrown weeds. Harry glanced around and was about to say something when Riley stepped forward and started counting bricks above the trashcan.

"This is only but one way into Diagon Alley. Personally, I think it's the easiest. You just simply count three up… two across…" she said loudly. "And here we go."

She tapped a certain brick three times in quick succession. The brown brick gave quiver at the touch. Quickly the other bricks started to wriggle as if set off by the other brick. Then suddenly the bricks began to move and rearrange themselves into a large archway that opened onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned so much that they lost sight of it.

Blake smiled at Killian and Harry's wondrous expressions. "I was like that the first time here. Welcome to Diagon Alley."

They stepped through the archway and at once it moved and reformed again into a solid brick wall. It was better than Harry had imagined. The different shops and stores reminded him of London's own streets. Except you couldn't find a place that sold pewter cauldrons, shape-shifting animals, flying brooms, or potions in London. Harry tore his eyes from a plump woman haggling with an old man over herbs.

"Eight knuts! Honestly, at these prices..." Harry heard the woman say vaguely.

Killian was a little quicker over getting over his shock. He took Harry's elbow and led him through the crowd with Riley and Blake guiding them. "We have to get our money exchanged to wizards gold first like the letter said."

Harry's eyes widened at the sight of the impressive snowy white building looming ahead of them. Riley hung back with Harry as they climbed the white stone steps of the building. "This is Gringotts, the wizarding bank," she explained, nodding at a goblin whom wore a scarlet and gold uniform that guarded the imposing bronze doors. He bowed before them and opened the doors.

"What was that?" asked Killian as they entered the building. The goblin had been only four foot tall at most with a pointy beard and long fingers and long shoeless feet.

"That was a goblin. They are the only creatures you would want guarding your money," replied Riley smiling. "We learned about them in History of Magic last year."

They came to a second pair doors. Silver this time only these were engraved with forbidding writing that had Harry cock his eyebrow questioning. These silver doors were guarded by a pair of goblins not unlike the entrance doors outside. The goblins bowed them through the doors and they were in a vast marble hall. Killian sucked in a breath at all the goblins in sight. Nothing in his life would have prepared him to see a room full of goblins behind a long counter, counting coins, and examining shinning gems and trinkets with thick eyepieces.

"This is different," Killian commented quietly.

Harry chuckled quietly and retorted, "No kidding. I feel like I'm in the Neverending Story."

Other humans were here too, currently they were being led in and out of doors too many to count. This was all going quickly and smoothly with no errors or conflicts in sight. Together they made for the counter to a goblin with no line in front.

"Good day," said Blake to the free goblin. "I've come to exchange muggle money for wizarding gold."

"Of course sir."

"_Muggle?_" asked Killian.

Blake quickly explained, seeing the curious looks etched on Killian and Harry's faces. "Muggle is a term for normal folk. People who can't use magic."

The goblin took the offered money and pressed some buttons on a calculator like machine that was in front of him. "At the current exchange rate that will be 49 Galleons, 16 Sickles, and 6 Knuts." He reached into a cabinet and pulled out a metal box and a brown leather bag. He opened the safe and counted out the money, while placing it inside the bag. When done, he tied up the bag and handed it to Blake.

Killian and Harry stepped forward. The goblin's eyes flickered from Harry's eyes to the scar on his forehead. Harry unconsciously rubbed the lightning bolt, shaped scar on his brow. Sometimes he wondered about the possibility of getting cosmetic surgery to get rid of it. People always asked how he got it and he always replied with, 'I don't know. I've always had it.'

Harry wasn't sure but he had the feeling the goblin knew him somehow. They exchanged the money and quickly left. Riley confessed that being around goblins too long got her nervous. She too was a muggleborn witch like Harry and had only found out about her magic last year, so being around magic was still sort of new in a way for her. She explained this to Killian and Harry whom listened intently.

"So there are people who have lived with magic all their lives?" inquired Harry as they walked down the cobbled street outside of Gringotts. The sun shinned down from above and gave light to the bustling area full of witches and wizards going about their day shopping. His head still swiveled in all directions as he tried his best to take in the sights all in once.

"Sure," said Riley simply, smiling at his fascination of the shops. "Some people are half and half. One parents a wizard the others a muggle. Or there are purebloods whose whole family dating back generations are all magical folk. The last are muggleborns like me. Both parents aren't magical but I have the ability to do magic."

"Here we are," voiced Blake, stopping in front of a narrow and shabby shop. Letters above the door in fading gold proclaimed the shop Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. Through the window on a purple cushion lay a gleaming black wand, so dark that it looked painted but really wasn't.

"Man, this guy gives me the creeps," muttered Riley.

Blake gave her a stern look opening the door. "Hush."

They entered the shop, the tinkling bell above the door signaled their arrival. Boxes. A whole lot of boxes, was the first thing that came to Harry's mind as she surveyed the shop. They lined the walls and were packed together tightly. It was a wonder how anything was found in this dusty place.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice.

The kids jumped but the adults merely raised their eyebrows. They had seen the old man with the white hair and silver eyes come around the corner a long time ago. He peered at them slowly as if judging their worth with his very gaze. Finally after a while he spoke.

"I am Mr. Ollivander," he looked to Riley. She fidgeted under his scrutinizing gaze. Harry chuckled quietly as he heard her mutter, _"Gosh, what a perv!"_

"Riley Adams, you came to me only a year ago. Mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Supple. Excellent for charms. I trust it's in good hands."

Riley nodded a little quickly. "Yes, sir."

Mr. Ollivander turned his silver gaze to Harry. "Mr. Potter. I thought I would be seeing you soon," he said softly. Harry stepped back slightly closer to his father. "I can see your parents quite clearly in you."

"You knew my parents?" he asked quickly. His wide green eyes were filled with hope and anxiousness.

"I did. You have Lily's eyes and James face. Quite a couple those two were. I can clearly remember the day they both came in here for their wands. Powerful wands they had too, but the wand chooses the wizard. They did great things with their powers. I must say that you'll do even greater with their power in your blood."

Harry looked up at his father questioning. Killian had done a search for Harry's parents when he was younger and had shared his findings with Harry. Harry knew they died but the papers never stated what the causes were. It was listed as unknown.

"Harry's parents were wizards?" questioned Killian to Mr. Ollivander.

"Two of the finest. Such a pity they died the way they did."

Harry stepped closer his curiosity growing. "What do you mean? You know how they died?"

Mr. Ollivander nodded, his silver eyes gleaming in the gloomy darkness of the shop. "I'm afraid they were killed by the same dark wizard who gave you your scar…"

Riley tried to remember where this information was coming from. For the life of her it sounded so familiar like she had heard it before, but she couldn't remember. She tried to recall the details but the memory was out of her reach. Only vaguely could she remember a mentioning of a Harry Potter.

Mr. Ollivander wasn't offering anymore details much to Harry's disappointment. He pulled out a long tape measure from his pocket.

"Which is your wand arm?"

Harry could write with both his hands so he held out his right arm. Mr. Ollivander took the tape measure and measured his arm in so many different ways that Harry lost count. Mr. Ollivander let the tape measure go and it came to life measuring on its own. Mr. Ollivander went to the boxes lining the wall and began to take down boxes from different spots. While he was doing that he started to go over the types of wands people used and why no two wands were ever the same.

"That's enough," he said. The tape measure stopped and fell lifeless on the floor. "Here you are, try this one. Cherry Wood and dragon heartstring. Eleven inches. Quite supple. Take it and give it a wave."

Harry took the wand and waved it around feeling incredibly foolish, only to have it quickly snatched out of his hand by Mr. Ollivander. "Oakwood and unicorn hair. Ten inches, willowy. Try it."

Harry waved the wand and it was quickly snatched out of his hand by the old man. Harry had to bite his lip to keep from yelling at the man that he didn't he didn't have to snatch things. Killian placed a hand on Harry's shoulder to calm him down as Mr. Ollivander quickly thrust another wand into his hand.

"Willow and pegasus feather. A rare combination, I must say. Ten inches and quite springy. Go on, give it wave."

Harry took the wand and immediately felt a shock in his fingers. He brought the wand up and quickly swished it down. Blue and silver sparkles shot out from the tip and slowly rained down on them like shinning raindrops. The three behind Harry clapped loud smiling happily, while Mr. Ollivander smiled in satisfaction.

"Another satisfied customer."

Killian paid for the wand and together the four travelers left the shop, happy to be out in the open air once again. Riley spent a whole five minutes ranting on what a pervert Mr. Ollivander was for staring at her for so long. Their next stop was Flourish and Blotts, the bookstore.

"Damn. This is a big ass bookstore," commented Harry as they stepped inside.

Their parents took their lists and started making their way through the shop. That left Harry and Riley to their own devices. Harry being the curious type starting to go through the bookshelves looking at the titles and occasionally pulling out a book that caught his eye. Really he was looking for a book that had some information on the dark wizard that Mr. Ollivander mentioned killed his parents.

"_My Body is my Temple,_" said Riley reading a book title. Her and Harry grinned at each other and began paging through the book laughing at the _pictures_ inside. Harry stuck the book back in the place where she found it and his eye caught the title of another book next to it, one that looked promising.

Riley glanced at the cover confused. "_Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_—Collectors Edition XC1," she read. "Looks depressing if you ask me." Riley watched as Harry flipped through the pages of the thick black book, stopping in the section that had '_20th Century'_ written across the top in red ink.

"1920, the Fall of the Russian Dark Magician Ramsputein"

Riley glanced at Harry but the boy was not paying attention to her. His finger was going down the page muttering times and descriptions out loud to himself.

"1940, the Deceit and Manipulation of Grindelwald the Silver Tongue"

"1970, the Rising of the Deatheaters and their Master, You-Know-Who"

"1980, Harry Potter and the defeat of the Dark Lord Voldemort"

"Harry that's your name!" said Riley astonished. Harry read the page number and flipped to the page concerning the date. The two of them crowded over the heavy volume and scanned the paragraph selection with rapid speed amplified by curiosity.

**Harry Potter and the Defeat of the Dark Lord Voldemort**

At the time of 1980, the Dark Lord Voldemort's, You-Know-Who, was power at its peak.  
Almost 60 percent of the magical realm felt the full force of You-Know-Who's might.  
He and his band of followers known as Deatheaters killed and pillaged, destroying homes  
and families in their wake. No one at the time was safe. You-Know-Who made it clear that  
people either fell in line or died. Albus Dumbledore leader of the Order of the Phoenix, the  
last resistance Against You-Know-Who was losing numbers fast, since the Dark Lord had  
spies everywhere and Order members were found dead everyday.

The most notable Order members were Lily and James Potter, a young married couple  
fresh from Hogwarts. James was an Unspeakable for the British Ministry of Magic and Lily  
was a prominent Researcher of ancient lore and mythology for the Elysian Institute, an  
establishment that seeks answers inside of paranormal events. The couple encountered the  
Dark Lord thrice and escaped with their lives all three times, which is feat that none can claim  
to.

The couple knew that the Dark Lord had set his sights on them, so with the help of Professor  
Albus Dumbledore they went into hiding, with their young son Harry using the Fidelius Charm  
in October of 1981.

Friend of the family and childhood best friend of James, Sirius Black, was chosen as the Secret  
Keeper of the couple's location. As long as he kept their location a secret, no one could find the  
couple or their Location. What the Potters didn't know was that Sirius Black was the right hand  
man of You-Know-Who and was secretly spying on the couple. Black gave the location to the  
Dark Lord, and on October 31, 1981 You-Know-Who attacked the young married couple.

James was found dead in the couple's living room wand in hand. The Killing Curse delivered  
from the Dark Lord was the cause of death.

Lily was found in young Harry's nursery wand also in hand. In her other hand was clenched a  
celtic cross. The Killing Curse delivered from the Dark Lord was deduced also as the cause of  
death.

Harry, who was only a year old, was found hours later by a team of Hit Wizards. The Dark Lord  
was gone, but young Harry was still alive and the only remainder of that night was a jagged,  
lightning shaped, scar cut on his brow. Medi-Wizards at St.Mungo's examined Harry after taking  
him from his home. The results were that the scar was caused by the Killing Curse. Harry was hit  
by the curse and somehow rebounded it back on the Dark Lord casting him out of existence.  
Harry was put into the charge of his relatives in Surrey where he will be brought up under their care.  
The events of that night are a conundrum, but we do know this—Harry Potter vanquished  
You-Know-Who and ended a reign of terror. For that the magical realm will forever honor Harry  
Potter with the title, _The Boy Who Lived._

Riley and Harry stared open mouth at the book, eyes staring ahead at the pages unblinking. Riley closed her mouth and looked at Harry with stunned shock and said slowly, "Now I remember! _Harry Potter_ . . ." She cocked her head to the side, giving him an appraising stare. "I figured you would be taller . . ."

* * *

Now, this was a long chapter and twice the length of the previous one. I know that Harry has a different wand, but as Mr. Ollivander said, _'The wand chooses the wizard"_. Harry grew up differently, so he has a different personality, mannerisms, and experiences. That's what I take into account when I write scenes that change cannon. Not that I haven't already changed it by making this Alternate Universe.


	4. Reality is Truth

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter either. It belongs to its creator J.K. Rowling and probably Warner Bros. too. I'm not too sure about that. This piece of literature is simply the work of a humble fan.

* * *

:Author Notes:

This will be leaning more toward alternate reality. It will have the same characters just a different spin on things. If you're not a fan or strong cursing or maybe even violence and bloodshed then there is a good chance that this story isn't for you.

* * *

"Truth hurts. Maybe not as much as jumping on a bicycle with a seat missing, but it hurts." Drebin, _Naked Gun 2 1/2_

**Potter**

Chapter Three: Reality is Truth

By: Water Mage

Harry stood there with the book in his hands, staring down at the words in stunned shock. All thoughts in his mind were jumbled and running together. Never would he have thought his parents were murdered in such a way. Nowhere in his memory had such a horrid thought ever crossed his mind. His first feelings were sadness and anger, then bitterness and sorrow, then finally resolve. Harry was upset that his parents had died in such a way, but he was glad that he finally knew the truth. The real truth on how they met their fates. Vaguely he could feel someone taking the book from his hands then after a moment of numbness; arms pulled him into a warm hug.

"Oh, kiddo," whispered Killian into Harry's ear, arms wrapped around his son. "I'm so sorry."

Harry shook his head. "It wasn't your fault. You don't have to be sorry."

Killian reached up and brushed away tears that fell down Harry's cheeks. Harry started in surprise, he hadn't even known he was crying. He wiped his eyes hurriedly looking around the bookstore. No one had noticed them since the shop was so big, and they were in a secluded corner. Riley and Blake were standing together in front of the father and son using their bodies to shield the private movement from any prying eyes.

"At least I know how I really got my scar now," muttered Harry rubbing a finger along the lightning bolt, shaped mark that marred his brow. It was a thin red scar that stood in the middle of his forehead and was visible for all to see, since his hair was tied back.

Killian took the finger that Harry was rubbing along his scar into his own large hands. "Your parents didn't die in vain son. Their deaths were with honor and hope. Hope that you would live. Wear that mark as a symbol to honor your parents and their honorable deaths. Bear the scar proudly, son."

Harry nodded straightening his back. He would do precisely that. His parents Lily and James Potter died so that he would live on. And that was what he was going to do. Live. From now on he would wear his scar to honor his parents that had loved him so much. Killian smiled at Harry and he gave a small smile back. He wasn't upset anymore but still sadness lingered in his heart.

Harry glanced down at the stack of books at his feet. These were the books he had picked at earlier. They were magical history books, in depth spell and theory books, mythology books, and a book or two on Hogwarts itself, concerning some of the schools alumni and history of the castle itself. If he was going to the school he wanted to know a little bit more about it. Harry was about to pick the books up, but Killian held up an arm stopping him and put them in the basket himself, surprisingly the basket had magically remained feather light despite the many schoolbooks piled high inside.

Riley stayed by Harry's side offering him silent comfort as they walked behind their parents, whom went to register to pay for everything. She hadn't known Harry but a few hours and right now she could tell that he was brooding. He didn't need to talk or have an intervention. Harry just needed time for himself to let his own mind sort his emotions and feelings out. Harry let himself be steered out of the shop and into another one. Before he knew it he was walking into another shop. This one was a large shop too, a clothing store this time. Harry barely heard his father say something about getting him a school uniform. He tuned in fully when Blake started to talk.

"—Riley has to get a new uniform too," remarked Blake. "You two get fitted and Mr. McKnight and me will be outside getting some air. I met the witch last year and she's a nice enough lady so it will be safe if you're by yourselves for a moment."

Killian gave Harry a small smile and walked with Blake outside. Riley rolled her eyes at Harry as a skinny witch with purple eyes escorted her off behind a curtain. A squat witch in shinning blue robes, smiling brightly stuck out her hand to Harry.

"I'm Madam Malkin. Starting at Hogwarts this fall, dear," she said still smiling. Before Harry could answer she spoke again, while leading him to a low stool. "I have quite the shop full. All over behind curtains they are, getting fitted for new uniforms. Kids just grow up so fast nowadays."

Harry stood on the stool as she suddenly threw a long black robe over his head. With a skill that came with practice and time, she began pinning at the right length with quick speed. Harry took the time to look over the shop. It resembled a muggle tailor shop slash clothing store. Many curtains were around the room where as Madam Malkin said many more kids were behind getting fitting.

"Going to Hogwarts too?" asked a drawling voice.

Harry looked to his left and was greeting with the sight of a blond boy. An extremely blond boy. His slicked back hair might as well been white it was so blond. The boy had a pointed face and that held a pair of gray silver eyes. Harry wasn't really up to talking at the moment. Not more than ten minutes ago he had learned the true facts of his parents deaths, and how he came by the scar on his brow. Now really, really wasn't a good time for social talks.

"Can you hear me, I asked if you were starting at Hogwarts?" asked the boy again sharply.

Harry shot the boy an uninterested look. "Gee, was I that obvious?"

"I'm starting too," said the boy instantly.

Harry inwardly drew in a deep breath. Evidently the boy didn't catch the sarcasm laced in his statement. The peroxide he used to dye his hair must kill brain cells or something. The boy prattled on and on about this and that. Something about purebloods and then a weird word that sounded like cadditch.

"—My father says that Slytherin is the best house and that all the other houses are not even worth it. Oh, can you imagine if you got sorted into Hufflepuff?" the boy rambled on in that same drawling, bored voice.

Harry had had enough. Something inside him snapped. He normally didn't do the evil bitch routine but right now called for it. He turned his head sharply so that his green eyes bored deeply into the boy's gray silver ones. The boy blinked surprised at Harry's glare.

"Listen," whispered Harry coldly. "I don't give a flying fuck about you or your bloody father. Either back the hell up with the chatter or be prepared to feel my hand slapping you into that back wall. 'Cause. I. Am. Not. In. The. Mood. Do we understand each other?"

At that moment the sunlight streamed through the window and caught Harry's form. Silver gray eyes flicked to the scar that practically waved in the bright light of the sun.

"You're Harry Potter!"

Harry raised his eyebrow. "Thanks but I already know who I am, Helen Keller."

Madam Malkin snorted with the pin held in between her closed lips. First when the boy made his announcement to Harry's identity she had jumped with shock and her eyes lit up for an instant. Then just as quickly her face had settled into one of professional calm. Riley came out just as Harry was proclaimed all done by Madam Malkin. He hopped lightly down from the stool and he and Riley walked to the counter to pay for their robes. Riley turned her head and found the boy, who was still getting fitted, glaring a hole in the back of Harry's head.

"Whoa, can we say anger management," said Riley under her breath so only Harry heard.

Harry gave her a confused look. Discreetly she cocked her head to the boy. "That boy is staring at you in a creepy, 'I'm a psycho and I want to rip out your intestines' kind of way."

Harry turned around and gave the boy the finger just as the wizard behind the counter pricing their robes. He put them in bags and they walked out of the shop. True to their word their parents were standing outside the store waiting for them. Harry was in brighter spirits as they walked down the cobbled street. More people were out now than they were earlier. The street was crowded but it seemed that it magically stretched to fit them all. After hours of shopping they finally came to their last shop. The pet shop, Magical Menagerie.

* * *

Harry sat on his bed book propped in front of him and his two new pets sat before him. Perched on the knob of his wooden bedpost was his brand new owl. It was a great smoky, gray barn owl. It's eyes seemed very intelligent to Harry as if the owl knew some hidden secret that he didn't. Harry flipped through the pages of the mythology book he had bought trying to come up with a name for the first of his new pets or familiars as the book had called them.

"How about Rhea?" asked Harry talking to the owl. The owl was female and it seemed to glare at Harry when he suggested the name.

"Hope?"

"Serenity?" The owl hooted in an appreciative way. Harry stopped, giving the owl a puzzled look. "Do you like Serenity?" the owl hooted again. Harry smiled widely rubbing the top of the owl's head. She made a noise of pleasure. "Serenity it is then."

Harry felt something rub against his arm. He grinned down at the small kitten that was rubbing his soft fur covered chin against his bare forearm. The kitten was pure white with not a mark on him. Its eyes were a very odd shade of blue that Harry thought looked too pretty for a feline.

Harry scratched the cat behind his ears. "Hmm… Serenity was the Goddess of the Moon in Greek Mythology so how about a theme." The cat meowed and Harry grinned taking it as a yes. "I'm thinking Zeus?"

"Ra?"

"Thor?"

The cat made a loud noise that Harry guessed was a meow, but the kitten was young and didn't know how to fully control its vocals yet. Harry smiled affectionately at the small kitten. Looks like Thor would be his new name now. Harry gave both of his new familiars a bright smile. The moon shinned down its light through the windows of his room bathing the large room in a soft light. Harry yawned suddenly the events of today had tired him out more than he thought. Glancing at the clock on his bedside he noted that it was only nine o'clock. He normally went to sleep till after midnight. Yawning louder Harry stripped of his clothes and got ready for bed. He untied his hair and slipped into his black silk pajamas. Serenity flew to his windowsill that was large enough so that he could lay in it. She turned her gaze to the cloudless sky outside eyes seeming to glow with the soft light that flooded the room. Thor cuddled up to Harry as the boy settled down in bed, closing his eyes and breathing deep one last time he was fast asleep.

Hours later Harry found his eyes snapping open as a cold voice whispered, "Don't fucking move."

A hand was wrapped around his mouth keeping him from screaming. Harry's surprised and frightened green eyes stared into icy hazel ones. The stranger was a young man with light brown hair a light build dressed entirely in black. In his other hand was a long wicked looking knife that was pressed against Harry's temple hard enough to draw blood. Harry's heart raced wildly in his chest. He forced himself to keep breathing and not let panic take over before he went into shock, just like he had been taught to do. This was not the first time that he had been in a life-threatening situation.

The man glared down at Harry. "Now be a good boy and don't make a sound or I might just rip out your throat right here and leave it on daddy's desk."

Harry just stared at him schooling his features, so that they appeared just as cold as the strangers did. The man blinked in surprise finding the sight of a small boy looking at him in hate a little disturbing. Harry's eyes were chilling as they stared unblinking at the psycho.

The man raised his eyebrow. "Nice trick, kid. Now get the fuck up and lets go."

Harry moved to get up but a loud hooting noise and an echoing meow sounded through the room. Suddenly the man let out a loud yell. What happened next was fast and quick. Serenity flew through the air landing on the man's head clawing at his exposed skin with her talons. Thor jumped on the man's hand sinking his sharpened teeth into flesh drawing lots of blood.

"_Owww!"_ screamed the man in pain.

Harry took advantage of the man's momentary distraction. Using all his strength he kicked up foot catching the man in the gut. The man let out a whoosh of air feeling all breath leave him. Harry reached blindly for the clock on his beside nightstand grabbed it and bashed it against the man's skull repeatedly. The stranger fell to the ground on his knees moaning in pain. Harry didn't the let the moment slip through his fingers. Bringing back his foot he gave a loud yell as he kicked the man square in the face. A sickening crack filled the air as the bones in his noise broke and fractured. His head snapped back blood gushing down his face in torrents. Harry quickly ran to the intercom attached to the wall near his door and pressed a red button. Immediately alarms started blaring loudly throughout the whole mansion.

It wasn't minutes later before Harry's door was thrown open and men wearing black cargo pants, tight black shirts, and thick vests carrying CB radios in pockets, flooded the room. Three instantly made a wall around Harry and the others surrounded the attacker who laid moaning and bleeding on the floor. Blood covered his face and drenched his cloths a deep red color. The Archangels picked the man up forcefully as Killian strode into the room wearing a silk lavender night robe. His face was fixed into a mask of fiery anger as he stared at the intruder whom had just tried to harm his only child.

"I am going to ask this once," began Killian in a hard voice that bellied no lying would be tolerated. "What the fuck are you doing in my house? And why in Hell's name were you trying to abduct my child? Lie to me and I'll show you the true meaning of castration."

"I won't tell you shit," said the attacker his voice coming out in a low whisper.

Killian nodded to Tobias, one of the Archangels who held the man. Tobias took the queue and without warning he reared his arm back and punched the stranger in his nose... his broken noise. More bones broke and more blood oozed out faster and thicker this time. The man screamed in pain as waves of agony flooded his whole body. Killian gave the attacker a chilling smile.

"Now, let's try this again," replied Killian.

The man nodded and quickly began talking. His voice came out wheezy sounding, as was expected because his nose was broken. "Titan sent me. He wanted me to kidnap the kid. He wants to hold him for ransom."

Killian raised his eyebrow. "Sir Titan Manus thought he would really get away with this. Your boss is nothing more than a crime peasant trying to play with the big boys. Though I admit you must be good to make it through security."

"I've been training for this for over a year," admitted the bleeding man.

"You would make a fine asset to my team," said Killian. The man offered a weak smile that faded when he looked into Killian's eyes that were still cold and calculating. "But I don't like my men telling my secrets to enemies." He turned to the Archangels. "Take him to the firing range and use him for target practice. When you're done cut off his head and send it to Sir Titan. I want a note pinned to his head that says, 'Don't fuck with a McKnight'."

"No, wait!"

"Take him."

The Archangels dragged the screaming stranger from the room, his wailing protests echoing off the walls of the hallway. Killian dismissed the remaining Archangels and moved with Harry to his bed. The familiars sat nearby watching as the father tucked in the son. Thor leapt from the floor to the high bed and settled near his master, cuddling up to him. Harry smiled wrapping an arm around the small, white kitten.

"He didn't hurt you did he?" asked Killian.

Harry shook his head. "No, he didn't get that lucky. I hope the Archangels torture the bastard before they kill him. He scared the fuck out of me the way he woke me up. If I wasn't used to situations like these I think I would need some intensive counseling."

Killian smiled at Harry. If his son was fine enough to joke around then he was normal. He ran a hand through Harry's long black tresses. "I don't know how he managed to get past the security. Sir Titan must have trained him extensively. I wonder how that fucker got the nerve to try something like this. I don't play when someone threatens your life, kiddo. I'll make sure by tomorrow that that fat bitch knows the true meaning of pain."

Harry shivered a little. His father had that light in his eyes. The light he got when he wanted someone truly dead with every fiber in his being. Harry saw it occasionally and it never failed to creep him out. Oh, he didn't care about Sir Titan. In fact he hoped the bastard rotted in Hell. But when his father went all avenging angel people who hurt him better duck and run for cover.

"I'm fine, dad. No need to turn into the Punisher on me."

Killian gave him a tight smile. "You know that no one hurts you, kiddo. No one." He stood up and kissed Harry on the forehead where his scar rested. "Good night." Harry returned the goodnight and Killian left the room turning off the light and closing the door behind him.

Harry shook his head turning over trying to get comfortable. He closed his eyes and muttered, "Hell hath no fury like a McKnight scorned."

* * *

The last month passed quickly for Harry. He spent much of his time between studying the books of magic he bought and training. Studying heavily wasn't new to Harry, the private school he attended was very prestigious and the classes he was in were all honors classes or advanced placement courses. Harry tried simple spells in the book just for practice and they all seemed to work perfectly for him. Along with spells Harry read the history book of the magical realm and also the books on Hogwarts, dealing with its history and past students. Harry's parents were even in the book. Tears had came to his eyes the first time he saw their smiling faces looking at him and actually moving too. His training was more intense now than ever before. Killian wanted Harry ready for any threats or surprises that came his way in the new foreign environment.

"Alright, so lets go again."

Harry sighed tightening the black belt around the waist of his sky blue gi. Before him stood Dylan and Todd both dressed in black gi's. They were his teachers in the martial arts and firearms marksmanship, since both were the best of the best out of all the Archangels. His father trusted and held these two above all the rest. They were the commanders of the Archangels because their skills combined and separate were unmatched by any. Primarily they were the best assassins Killian had on his payroll, which is how they earned the nickname by other crime families the Angels of Death. When Killian's avenging angels went on the prowl someone would surely turn up dead because those two always got their mark.

The three currently stood in the mansion's gym. The gym had a high vaulted ceiling with benches that lined the walls to the left and right. In the middle of the room were mats and a large circle for sparring. Off to the right were the uneven bars, balance beam, and other equipment. Lining the wall to one side of the room was various weapons that most people only see in movies and television shows. Harry settled down into a fighting stance, facing Todd as Dylan watched on to critique his moves.

Todd settled into a fighting stance too mirroring Harry. Harry saw Todd was ready and charged at the older man full speed. At the last moment he jumped in the air, delivering a flying kick. Right as he was about to make contact with his target, Todd grabbed his ankle in mid air and twisted sharply. Harry's whole body spun three hundred and sixty degrees before he landed roughly on the ground.

"Ow!" cried Harry, sitting up and rubbing his ankle.

"Again," Todd said patiently. "This time don't leave yourself open to a counter attack. And stop watching so many movies. That jumping in the air crap will get you kiled."

Dylan nodded in agreement from where stood. He swept back his chin length blond hair before resuming his stance with his arms crossed. "The point of this was to work on surprising your enemy, Harry. Anyone could have saw that kick coming miles away. Let's go again."

They settled back into fighting stances. Harry charged him directly again at an incredible speed. Todd sighed, expecting Harry to do the same flying kick. Harry surprised Todd by going low and doing a sweeper kick, knocking his legs from under him. Todd grunted in pain as his back collided painfully with the ground. He looked up to see Harry's foot hovering an inch away from his face.

Clapping filled the room coming from a smiling Dylan. "Bloody wicked that move was!"

Todd accepted Harry's offered hand and pulled himself up. He clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder giving him a wide smile. "I see you learned. I really wasn't expecting that, little man."

Dylan joined them giving Harry a sad look. "I'm going to miss my favorite student. What type of school is called Hogwarts anyway? Sounds like a school for crackwenches if you ask me."

"No one did," replied Todd.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Ha ha. Let's try to keep the fact that I'm going to a magic school a secret. Not everyone can know."

"We know how to keep a secret," grinned Dylan "If we didn't my fiancée still wouldn't think that I sale insurance for a living."

Harry and Todd both laughed loud. It was a running joke that Samantha, Dylan's fiancée, would one day turn into Nancy Drew and actually follow him to work. Dylan putting on a hurt look spun on his heel and left the room.

Harry stopped laughing, concerned. "Don't tell me we hurt his feelings."

"Yeah right, bitches," said Dylan walking back into the room. "I just had to go and get something. My acting skills are tight right?"

Todd grinned as Dylan walked to where he stood. Together they faced Harry both wearing wide smiles that were the opposite of Harry's confused expression. In Dylan's hands the blond carried a long wrapped object that he didn't have when he left.

"We both pitched in and got you something," said Todd.

"A going away present," replied Dylan

Harry took the offered object, curiosity getting the best of him. Underneath the folds of the cloth was a short red scabbard holding a thin sword. A Roman looking shortsword actually. Harry stared at stunned, gripping the red handle he unsheathed the blade. The steel blade was two-edged, and had a sharp taper point. and shinny and above the handle where he gripped the sword was a crystal blue hilt that glittered. Harry turned the sword in his hands and the light caught the gleaming blade.

"Its beautiful," whispered Harry smiling gratefully at his teachers.

"We expect you to practice your kata's every chance you get," remarked Todd.

Dylan nodded in agreement. "I don't want you to come home during Christmas Holidays completely out of practice. If you expect to move up another degree in black belt you have to continually train and practice."

"I will," agreed Harry. His arms snapped to his side and he executed a low bow. They returned the bow then after a moment's pause; Harry threw his arms around them both. Dylan and Todd hugged him back with equal enthusiasm. Harry was like a son and little brother to them both. They were the ones who brought him to his father all those years ago that late night, so they felt a special connection toward the boy that they helped raised.

That night Harry went to his calendar that sat on the desk near his window. Red X's marred the paper covering the days that had already passed. Picking up a pen he crossed off August thirty first. Harry stared at the ticked off dates with glee. Today was the last day of August and tomorrow was September the first. The day he would leave for school — Hogwarts.

Harry sat down on his bed to look outside his window. The window was open and Serenity flew out into the night sky to hunt. Thor settled down in Harry's lap and he contended himself to petting the white kitten, rubbing the soft fur between his ears. The stars shinned and the full moon was blue in the sky as Harry gazed out into the heavens. A small smile was fixed on his face as he stared.

"One more day," he said to himself in a whisper.

A streak of light flew through the darkness of the sky in answer. Harry saw the falling star and made a wish.

'_I wish that for once I can go through one school year without kicking someone's ass.'_


	5. Destiny Waits for No One

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter either. It belongs to its creator J.K. Rowling and probably Warner Bros. too. I'm not too sure about that. This piece of literature is simply the work of a humble fan.

* * *

:Author Notes:

This will be leaning more toward alternate reality. It will have the same characters just a different spin on things. If you're not a fan or strong cursing or maybe even violence and bloodshed then there is a good chance that this story isn't for you.

* * *

"Waiting are they? Well let'em wait!" General Mad Anthony Wayne, _When told by his doctors the angels were waiting for him._

**Potter**

Chapter Four: Destiny Waits for No One

By: Water Mage

The sun rose steadily into the sky beginning its daily path across the heavens. Its warm rays shinned down upon the Earth bathing half the world in light. The other half of the globe was still covered in the sweet bliss of darkness. In the United Kingdom, specifically in secluded, tranquil, land just outside of London were the McKnight Estates. On the green covered grounds of the McKnight owned countryside was the large, hell it was bigger than large it was huge, house of the McKnights. A long curving driveway made a loop in front of the houses double doors before leading back to the guarded gates. The mansion stood three stories tall with large windows and looked and radiated money. One could tell that whoever lived in this mansion wasn't _rich_. They were _wealthy_.

The sunlight streamed through the windows of a particular room of the house. The room of one Harold James Duncan Potter-McKnight, who was currently sleeping like a prisoner on death row. He tossed and turned in his king size bed, the comforter thrown over in his fit. His familiars, Serenity and Thor, stared at their young master concern showing on their animal faces.

Harry was in the throes of a very vivid and terrifying dream. It would have been a nightmare if it weren't for the fact that the events of the dream actually happened before in the past. Harry was viewing a memory...

The scenery around him was blurry and unfocused preventing him from clearly making out forms. It started innocently enough with a young couple laughing and talking above him. He was smaller than he was now as the two people towered above him. He tried his hardest to focus and make out their faces, but it just wasn't happening. The woman was singing to him. The song was in another language that he didn't know but the melody was so familiar to him. Her soft and melodious voice tugged at Harry's heart filling him with warmth. The whole scene was something right out of an ABC Family movie or low budget Disney flick. The dream took a different turn suddenly. The front door was thrown open and Harry was grabbed by the woman as the man ran towards the door. The woman and Harry ran from the room and up a set of stairs into a room that resembled a nursery. Everything was still hazy to Harry and the events were happening too quickly and they were all running together.

The woman stood in front of the door while standing protectively in front of the small form of Harry. The woman held a wand in one hand and in the other was a small, silver Celtic cross. Her head was bowed and eyes were closed as she spoke softly under her breath. An invisible wind started in the room blowing her red hair wildly about her. Harry felt that he knew this woman but her form was so blurred that he couldn't make out any distinguishing features. A soft emerald glow surrounded the woman as she chanted, while her hand clenched the cross in a death grip.

"I call upon the spirits of my homeland, the emerald isle of my forefathers, Ireland. Tuatha Dé Danaan please hear my plea. I beg the aide of the Fearie Gods, the Little People, the King of Light, the Queen of Darkness… Any who will hear me, please help me! Not me but my son, for he is only a child!"

A moment passed in tense silence then without warning a glowing figure appeared in front of the woman. He was a handsome man with long white hair appearing neither old nor young. His chiseled face could best be described as timeless. In his flowing golden robes, the color of honey, he gave the woman a kind look. Harry was shocked at the sudden appearance of the glowing figure and so was the woman, for she opened her eyes and gasped at the sight of him.

"Hello, child of my land," spoke the man in a voice that was deep and not at all imposing. "You know who I am?"

The woman nodded stunned. "You're Dagda," she whispered breathy. "God of complete knowledge and warrior of the Irish people. Eternal enemy against the Lone Power, Rhita Gawr."

Dagda's green eyes twinkled with an inner light as he gazed at the young woman. "Child, I have come to answer your call. The dark one who wants your child will not get to him. I promise you this. I have seen his future in the Lia Fail."

The woman's green eyes widened. "The stone of destiny…"

Dagda nodded. "Your child's destiny does not end here. He's one of the Chosen. A Champion." He moved to the crib where the woman had laid the small form of baby Harry. Dagda stared down at the serene baby who had not emitted a sound throughout the frantic ordeal. Dagda gracefully bent over the rail of the crib and pressed his lips to Harry's brow in a light kiss. He pulled away and where his lips touched there was now a glowing mark. The glowing mark was a golden lightning bolt. A second passed and the glow receded leaving a thin scar in a lightning bolt shape.

Dagda brushed away snow-white hair that had fallen across his forehead. Harry looked closer and could make out an identical symbol marring Dagda's own brow. Except his was golden and didn't seem to be glowing and neither did it seem to be a scar.

The God turned to the redhead woman. "He is one of mine now. I have given him my mark and forever more will he be under my protection." Dagda turned his gaze to the woman. "Lily, Daughter of the Flower Courts, you know you will not live another day, but I will see you soon in the Otherworld. Goodbye… for now."

With that final spill the god disappeared in a flash of light. The woman turned to Harry and touched a finger to the fresh scar on his brow. It was as if time suddenly resumed itself and the noises outside of the room suddenly grew into a roar. The woman turned back to the doorway as the door blocking the room started to shake and tremor in its setting.

The woman turned to the young Harry a sad look in her eyes. One lone tear trailed down her cheek as Lily Potter gazed down one last time at her son. "I love you, Baby."

She turned back to the doorway sadness leaving her eyes. The sadness was replaced by stone cold determination. Her green eyes hardened and her posture straightened ready for the approaching battle. She raised her wand as the door in front of her was blown off its hinges. Harry could only watch helplessly as a dark figure strode into the room in a menacingly black cloak. Again the form was blurred and the person was completely unrecognizable to Harry. A new level of frustration filled him because he couldn't actually fully make out anyone.

Lily's red hair blew behind her as the untraceable wind picked up more strongly. Her form still glowed with an eerie emerald light. Her green eyes glowed too. From edge to edge a glowing green filled her eyes. No white appeared in either eye. Only endless glowing, emerald green showed in both eyes. A chilling smile appeared on her face as she stared her killer down.

"You'll have to earn your kill here, you muggle hating fucker," she said in a whisper that carried intense coldness behind it. "I promise you that you'll feel a world of hurt tonight. Before the night is over you'll know the true meaning of a mother's fury."

Harry wanted to cry out or something but he was just a spectator. The figure in the doorway chuckled and aimed his wand at the woman.

"Ava-"

Harry bolted up in bed, jolted from his sleep. Dimly he registered a loud ongoing and annoying blaring sound filling his room. Harry jumped up from his bed and walked to his dresser that held his computer and printer along with his alarm clock. With a hard tap he pushed the alarm button off and instantly the annoying noise quit. Blinking blearily Harry read the time. It was eight in the morning. As he got his bearings and the sleep left his eyes he thought of the dream he just had. Already the details that had once been so fresh in his mind were quickly slipping away. The more he tried to remember the more he forgot. Harry rubbed his brain thinking hard trying to recall the details.

"Dammit!" he swore sharply. It was gone…

All of it was gone from his memory. Harry had a feeling that the dream was important but for the life of him he couldn't remember what the hell it was about. All of the details were gone from his mind. He racked his thoughts but nothing of the dream was there.

"Maybe I should have listened to Dr. Phil and invested in a dream journal," muttered Harry, walking to his bed and plopping down on it with a sigh.

Harry found his gaze trailing around the room. His eyes landed on the calendar that was tacked to the wall near his window. He couldn't make out any numbers or anything but he could kind of see red x's marked on the pages. A light turned on his brain and Harry threw his body across his bed reaching blindly for his glasses that lay on his nightstand. The thin frames slipped easily on his face. Blinking quickly at the adjustment to his vision Harry read today's date with a grin on his face.

"September the first," he smiled. He jumped up from the bed startling Thor and Serenity who were gazing at him in fascination. "Fan-fuckin-tastic!"

Harry found the energy that had been renewed by sleep. The thought of Hogwarts put a spring in his step. Harry practically ran to his bathroom that joined his room. Harry didn't normally care about how he looked. He was comfortable in his own skin and that was all that mattered. But today was different. He knew the wizarding world was expecting someone who looked the part of the savior. So this morning Harry took his time getting ready. He ran some gel through his hair as he combed it backwards and tied it off. By the sink was a contact case that contained prescribed contacts that Harry usually didn't wear. He personally thought they were too uncomfortable. If he was going to look his best today he had to lose his glasses. Thirty minutes and more than fifteen tries later, Harry finally got his contacts settled into his eyes, which was an accomplishment in itself.

Harry pulled out his best clothes to wear. He ended up dressed in nice expensive blue jeans, a two hundred-dollar pair of white sneakers, and new polo shirt. Harry stood in front of the mirror in his bathroom to observe his look. All in all he looked pretty good. Without his glasses his green eyes damn near glowed, they were so eye catching. His skin was a nice olive color from being outside all the time playing football and rugby. If the mirror could talk Harry was sure it would have whistled.

Harry's trunk, which had been packed the night before, was sitting near the door of his room ready to be taken out. It was half past nine when Harry sat down in the dining room at the table. Killian sat beside him his breakfast already eaten and the morning paper blocking his face.

"Good morning, Dad," smiled Harry happily at Mary, the cook, who delivered his food with a warm smile. She affectionately wiped his nose with the pad of her thumb. Harry chuckled at the elderly woman as she walked back to the kitchen. Mary was always mothering him. The dining room window curtains were pulled back letting the sunlight enter the room lighting it with natural light. The long, large, room was empty of people except for two Archangels that stood guard in the doorway and of course the two McKnights who sat at the table.

"Did you sleep well, kiddo?" asked Killian, sitting the morning paper down.

Harry nodded the smile on his face was still there. He was truly excited about today's events. Something new and life changing was going to happen today and he couldn't wait. Killian detected Harry's emotions and a smile appeared on his face too. Seeing Harry happy made him happy. All he ever wanted for Harry was for him to be happy, which he had worried about when his son was very young but Harry was tough. The unusual life they led didn't off balance him, but had made him a stronger and more realistic person.

"We need to leave by ten if we want to make it to Kings Cross station in time for me to catch the train," Harry informed his father after swallowing a mouth full of eggs.

Killian nodded. "You know you can't bring guns but at least bring your sword Todd and Dylan bought you." Killian picked up his cup and sipped his coffee. "I'm already concerned about the school's security but I'll feel better if you had it."

"It's already packed. I don't trust a school full of strangers no more than you do," replied Harry promptly. "I'm all for bonding and whatnot, but if one of them tries to fight… I swear I'll cut someone."

The elder McKnight raised a thin, dark eyebrow. "Really Harry where do you pick up such language?"

Harry shrugged in answer then held up a hand. "I go to boarding school," he ticked off a finger. "We have cable." He ticked off another finger. "Then there is you. You swear more than a sailor on shore leave."

Killian chuckled in reply shaking his head, knowing that Harry was right. They spent the next few minutes talking about the upcoming school year and about Harry visiting during Yule Holidays. The Archangels put Harry's familiars and trunk in the Porsche. Well one of the many Porsches that took up space in the garage that was big enough to be another house. Todd and Dylan plus two other Archangels drove behind the father and son on their way to the train station. The Archangels were dressed in normal enough clothes but they all wore jackets to conceal their weapons strapped to their chest. The drive itself was normal and Harry contended himself to talking to his father, listening to the radio, and watching the scenery pass by at rapid speed. His father was sort of a speed demon, so he was used to the Fast and the Furious rendition his father was doing.

They reached Kings Cross a little past ten. The place was crowded as usual, so it was easy for the Archangels tailing them to blend into the crowd. Killian was about to ask Harry a question but stopped as he spotted a familiar face in the crowd. Blake and Riley, who was wheeling a cart, walked up to them wearing bright smiles.

"Hello, sir," smiled Blake, holding out his hand for Killian to shake. "I was wondering if I was going to run into you. Ready to go through the platform? It's a bit of a dozy at first."

Harry knew he was talking about platform nine and three-quarters. He had read about the platform in one of his books he had picked up in Diagon Alley. The entrance was supposedly right between the barrier between nine and ten. All you had to do was walk through it.

"I still don't see why they would put a secret wizarding train in a muggle station," voiced Harry. "If they're looking for secrecy this is really the wrong way to go about it."

"I know!" agreed Riley with a large smile. "I wondered the same thing last year. I mean really… Why?"

Blake laughed along with Killian. "Come on you two."

They pushed their trolleys along walking towards the barrier. Blake gestured subtly to his coworkers, the Archangels who were tailing them, to halt and watch. Riley, Harry, Killian and Blake approached the barrier trying to look casual and nonchalant.

"Let's do this all together," said Blake under his breath.

They leaned against the barrier and the crowd passing by picked up as people jostled past each other to get to their destinations. At that moment Blake gave a nod and the four of them leaned against the barrier with force this time and then instead of encountering a wall they kept moving backwards… and backwards… Harry slowly turned around and blinked.

On a platform filled with kids and tearful adults was a steaming cheery red engine. The train was long and appeared brand new because of how its red painted coat shinned in the sun. A sign hanging overhead proclaimed the train _Hogwarts Express_. Harry was in awe at the impressive sight. Outwardly he didn't show it of course. What kind of idiot would openly gape out a train, but inwardly he was damn near doing back flips. Harry looked behind him and where there should have been solid wall, there was an iron archway, with the words _Platform Nine and Three-Quarters_ on it.

Thor meowed softly from his spot on top of Harry's trunk. Serenity was next to Thor but she was in her cage. Harry rubbed his eyes surprised at the smoke hanging in the air that drifted over the heads over the laughing and chattering kids. The platform was filled with the loud prattling of reunited friends, owls hooting at one another, and parents doing last minute yelling at their kids.

"Well this is… almost ordinary," replied Harry. "I was expecting something a bit more…"

"What?" Riley questioned. "Do you think your going to Mars? You're just going to Scotland for a year."

The other Archangels appeared from the archway behind them. They pressed through the crowd of students and parents going down the platform in search of a seat on the train. Harry caught some girl yelling something about a giant tarantula but he wasn't really paying attention. Blake and Killian helped them carry their trunks onto the train. They found an empty compartment near the end of the train and their fathers tucked their things away in a corner for them.

They exited the train going back onto the platform to say goodbye. Harry moved a little away from Riley so she and her father could say their farewells privately. Killian smiled down at Harry and affectionately patted his shoulder.

"I'll miss you, kiddo."

Harry smiled but it was a small smile. Not a bright one like the ones he usually wore. "I'll miss you too, Dad. I'll write as soon as I get there. I would prefer email but hey people in Hell want ice water."

Todd and Dylan gave Harry nods and small waves from their positions where they blended in the crowd. Harry smiled back and with Riley they both clambered back on the train. They leaned out the window to wave good-bye one last time. Harry was sad to be gone from his father, but he knew he would see him again in December so it wasn't like they were going to apart for a whole year. The train started to move, slowly building up speed. They both watched their fathers from the windows till the train rounded a corner and houses now flashed past the window.

"Now lets do wandering," Riley spoke suddenly. "I'll show you around the train. I don't have many friends so don't expect this to be tea time with the Queen."

Harry rolled his eyes with a grin as they both got up and exited the compartment. They slid the door closed and walked down the aisle. Riley pulled her blond hair into a loose ponytail as she walked with him. Harry looked into a compartment and raised his eyebrow at those gathered inside. Inside the compartment seated on the scarlet cushioned seats were a group of guys and girls all were wearing Abercrombie and Fitch and Hollister clothes. How he knew? The company's names were displayed on the outfits in big letters. The girls were currently applying makeup to their faces using compact mirrors and things that Harry didn't know the names of. The boys were holding out their phones moving them around in the air with a frustrated expression on their faces.

"What are they doing?" asked Harry.

Riley glanced through the window and chuckled. "I assume you know all about the Four Houses. Those my friend are my fellow housemates, Gryffindors. The girls are trying to look their best so they can flaunt their stuff at the Sorting Ceremony tonight. The boys are trying to get signals on their cellphones but obviously we're too far out to get one." Riley read the expression on his face. "I bet you never expected wizards to be so… yeah. It's easier on the mind if you think of Hogwarts as just another high school. Except with a magical coating topping. Gryffindors are basically Preps, who only care that they're right and ready to fight first and ask questions later."

"Is that how you are?" Harry asked as they walked further along the aisle.

Riley shrugged nonchalant. "I guess. I fight first and ask questions later. So yeah, I am in that category."

Harry glanced in another compartment and wasn't surprised to see people reading inside. But what was unusual was that the whole compartment was filled with kids, but they all were engrossed in books. One person looked up from their book and asked a question that he couldn't hear. In quiet voices they replied and then a deep discussion started to go on. It reminded Harry of a debate the way they were going at it.

"Ahh… Ravenclaws," said Riley her voice right next to Harry's ear. "They are basically the Neo Philosophers of the school. They're quiet thinkers who see reason between right and wrong and light and dark and all that jazz. With their way of thinking they're sort of the referees between the Slytherin and Gryffindor houses."

Harry filed the information away in a corner of his mind to analyze later. It went with the information he had just learned of Gryffindor. Riley and Harry walked again down the aisle and they stopped to look in another compartment filled with people. These people were dressed all in black but not grungy black clothes. These clothes were expensive and seemed tailored rather than store bought. Harry knew the difference.

A scowl made its way on Riley's face. "Slytherins," she grumbled. "They are the Pretty Goths of the school. The kids actually only like ten percent of the world's population and look down upon the rest. They think they're teen royalty."

Harry looked at her surprised at the vehemence in her voice. "You have a bad run in with them?"

"Hell yeah. Since my blood isn't _pure_ enough for them, I'm on their _Need to die list_."

Harry nodded knowing she was referring to the discrimination that some pureblood wizarding families showed to muggleborn or mixed blood wizards and witches. It was all in the books he read over the summer. The Slytherin house wasn't his favorite house either, since learning that Lord Voldemort was from the snake house and that he practically recruiting his bitches… Deatheaters from his old school stomping grounds. That bit of information was definitely something that Harry had filed away for later examination. All the books he had read had dully noted that Voldemort was in fact once a Slytherin.

Harry looked into another compartment and wasn't surprised at the mix of students inside. They didn't seem to all have the same personality or the same outfits on. These kids looked like they just woke up and put on whatever seemed comfortable and screw whatever anyone else thinks.

"These are the Hufflepuffs," Harry stated more than asked.

Riley turned from the window she was looking out of. The train had long since passed the houses outside and now they were in the countryside. Only endless trees and hills and mountains flew past the windows of the Hogwarts Express. Hearing Harry's voice interrupted her musing, moving to stand beside him she looked into the compartment's window that offered a view inside.

"Yep, those be Hufflepuffs, the school Misfits. They have nothing going for their house in terms of status. Most people think that they are just the leftovers the Hat stuck there because it couldn't fit them into another house."

Harry started to walk forward but Riley held out an arm. "Wait." She said. "We should just go ahead and go back. There is nothing left to see except the Perfect Prefects compartment. Those kids get on my nerves more than the teachers do."

They turned around and started to walk back the way they came. Their compartment was the last on the train and as they slid it open they were surprised to see another person inside. It was a boy about Harry's age with dark red hair and a smattering of freckles covering his face. He looked up from the magazine he was reading hearing the noise of the door sliding open.

"Hello," he greeted them a bit shyly.

They said hello and moved into the compartment to have a seat. Harry sunk down in the comfortable cushioned seat. Thor jumped up into his lap and laid down.

"So is this your first year?" asked Harry, turning his attention to the boy.

Red hair fell across his eyes as he nodded. Quickly he swept the wayward hair back. "Yeah this is my first year. Are you a first year too?"

Harry nodded and Ron looked surprised at the answer. "Really? I would have thought you were older. You look older."

Harry looked himself over and guessed he probably did look older with how he was dressed and how he looked without his glasses.

"I hope I'm in Gryffindor," the boy went on. "All of my family has been in it. Although I do _suppose_ Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad. If I were sorted into Slytherin I would just leave. The kind of shame that would bring…"

Harry just kept his mouth shut about the houses. He had an opinion on what was best for him but that didn't mean he was going to be telling complete strangers. According to _Hogwarts, A History_ the Sorting Hat would read his mind and place him wherever it felt like he fit best, which was based on who he was as a person. Throughout the redhead kid's house bashing, Harry just listened with a polite smile, nodding every so often to show that he was listening. In reality he wasn't paying a damn bit of attention. Riley had fallen asleep minutes ago not bothering to fake interest. Harry found his gaze traveling around the compartment to a small cage that sat near the boy. Inside was a fat rat that was asleep to the cares of the world.

"Is that your pet?" asked Harry interrupting the boy from his tirade.

The boy blinked then looked down beside him. "Yeah, this is my pet, Scabbers. I got him from my brother, who got it from our older brother, so he's right old."

Harry found his gaze drawn to the rat in an unblinking stare. He had the strangest feeling about the rat. Something was telling him that he should know it. He had seen it somewhere before, where he couldn't remember, but that damn animal was so damn familiar. Harry cocked his head to the side and found himself saying in a quiet voice without realizing:

"His tail looks almost like a worm…"

The boy smiled. "That's funny. Because my older brother before he named it Scabbers, called it Wormt--"

"What's your name anyway?" asked Riley who had awoken with a muffled yawn. "Maybe I know your older brothers. Riley Adams, Gryff, by the way."

"I'm Ron Weasley. I have five older brothers so you just might."

Riley grinned, her eyes lighting up. "I know your brothers alright. Fred and George are the king of pranksters. A little childish and immature but they're good people."

Harry held out his hand for Ron to shake. "I'm Harry Potter-McKnight."

Ron blanched noticeably. All the color in his face suddenly drained away leaving him white and pale. His eyes flicked to Harry's scar and they widened like saucer plates. He obviously hadn't noticed it before. Ron pointed a shaking finger at Harry. Riley and Harry glanced at each other than looked back to the shocked Ron who was staring like a gaping fish.

"You're Harry Potter!"

Harry raised an eyebrow and replied calmly. "I haven't forgotten my name."

Ron looked like he wanted to rub his finger along Harry's scar the way he was acting. "So that's where You-Know-Who…"

"No, it was on his toe," muttered Riley. "Of course that's where it is."

Ron didn't even hear her he was so entranced. "Do you remember any of it?" he asked eagerly.

Harry stared at him then blinked. He tried to wrap his mind around the question, going over it several times. He was fine with the whole staring bit. That was unusual but it wasn't anything personal. But the question was just the last straw. It was time for the evil bitch routine.

"What the fuck kind of question is that," Harry snapped. "I was one fucking year old at the time. Why in the hell would I remember the night my _parents_ were _murdered_ by a crazy wizard who goes by fake name like a character in a comic book!"

Riley sniggered behind him still seated in her seat watching the show like it was a made for TV movie. She looked like all she needed was a bag of popcorn. Ron however was astounded by the anger Harry was showing. He hadn't thought the question would offend him.

"Look, I'm sorry alright," began Ron. "I didn't think…"

Harry crossed his arms and eyes were narrowed in tiny slits, as he replied coldly. "What? You didn't think that I would care, well guess what, I do."

"Well, well, well…"

They all snapped their heads toward the new voice. The blond boy from the robe shop stood in the doorway along with two stocky looking boys, whom seemed as if they didn't have enough brains to put uno and dos together. They tried to look intimidating but to Harry they looked like bad extras from an off Broadway musical performance of Grease.

The blond boy stood in the middle. He looked to Harry with a little more interest then he did back in Diagon Alley. "I know we didn't get off on the right foot last time, so I'll start over. I'm Malfy, Draco Malfoy." He pointed carelessly to the statues flanking him. "Oh, and this is Goyle and Crabbe."

First the fight with Ron and now this intrusion. To say that Harry was pissed was an understatement. "Look. Drican."

"Draco," Malfoy clarified.

"I don't give a flying fuck what your goddamn name is. You already know I don't like your ass, so take Laverne and Shirley and get hell out of my sight!"

Malfoy stepped forward but Riley quickly stepped in front of Harry and her wand was pointed between the blonde's eyes in less time than it took to blink. "You heard him, Milky," she said softly in a frosty voice.

Malfoy shot them all a disdainful gaze before he and his two cronies backed away and out of the door. The door slid shut behind them. Harry was staring at Riley's back with a thoughtful expression on his face. He had seen that stance before many times in his life. He filed this new information away later. He and Riley would talk about this later, but not now.

"I'm going to go and find my brothers," said Ron hurriedly exiting the compartment. No doubt he probably didn't want to risk getting Harry angry again.

Riley sat back down in her chair and opened her mouth but then stopped. A look of concentration came over her features. "The train is slowing down," she said looking out of the window. Harry looked with her and sure enough the train appeared to be slowing down. It was dark outside and all that could be seen were forests and mountains under a deep purple sky that featured a setting sun.

Harry took a deep breath before he began to take out his robes from his trunk. He couldn't help but think as he unfolded his robes: '_I haven't even got to school yet and already these bastards are pissing me off.'_


	6. That Which is My Mind

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter either. It belongs to its creator J.K. Rowling and probably Warner Bros. too. I'm not too sure about that. This piece of literature is simply the work of a humble fan.

* * *

:Author Notes:

This will be leaning more toward alternate reality. It will have the same characters just a different spin on things. If you're not a fan or strong cursing or maybe even violence and bloodshed then there is a good chance that this story isn't for you.

* * *

"I will not fear, for fear is the mindkiller; fear is the little death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me; and once it has gone only I shall remain." Emperor Paul Atredies, _Dune_

**Potter**

Chapter Five: That Which Is My Mind

By: Water Mage

Riley excused herself, taking her robes so that she could change in another cart. Harry paused in the unbuttoning of his shirt hearing the sound of a soft knock come from the other side of the door. Before he could even say come in the door slid open revealing Ron Weasley. The red head stood in the doorway unsure for a moment before entering. Ron's hands were shoved deep in his pockets and his gaze was trained to the floor. The sound of his feet scuffing the floor was the only noise in the cart aside from their breathing.

"Listen," Harry said deciding to break the awkward silence. He was normally all for holding a grudge but this was just damn annoying. "I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier. Its just that my parents is not a topic I like brought up."

Ron nodded quickly thankful that situation was resolved. "I'm sorry too for asking such a rude question."

That was it. No more words were exchanged between them as they went about changing into their Hogwarts robes. Harry found his mind wandering as he mindlessly changed into his new uniform. His thoughts drifted past the walls of the cart and into the past. In his minds eye Harry viewed a long ago memory…

_The sun beamed down its light upon the courtyard of T.A. Private Academy. It was midday so classes were paused for the hour-long recess the students were granted. The courtyard was filled with kids ranging from six to ten, running from here to there amidst the stone benches, tall trees, and the impressive fountain that stood in the middle of the grounds. A young Harry, eight years old and in second grade, sat underneath a tall oak tree book in hand and apple in the other. Munching on the apple, he turned a page in the mystery book he was reading._

_"Look at him sitting over there. Who reads at recess, honestly!"_

_Harry heard the voice but didn't look up. He kept his eyes trained on the pages of the book. But the words became just a blur of black as he turned his focus to the voices near him. He didn't have to look up to know that whoever said such things were gazing at him. He could feel eyes watching him at this very moment._

_Laughing could be heard then a different voice responded with: "I know!"_

I_ know why he goes off by himself," said a female voice whereas the other two voices were male. "He thinks he's better then us, he does. Me mam told me all about his family. His father is the owner and CEO of McKnight and Steel."_

_"The law firm?"_

_"Yep. Even my parents are clients of McKnight and Steel. The man has his hands in everything! What I hear from my parents his father is richer than rich."_

_"From what I hear his father is not really his real dad. I hear he's adopted. Potter is his real last name. Can you imagine what kind of common people his parents are? Do you know what a potter is? To be named after one is _so _demeaning," said the female voice letting out a high pitch laugh at the end of her sentence._

"Hogwarts coming up," echoed a voice through the train. Harry was shaken from his memory at the sudden voice. From where it came, Harry had no idea because from what he could see no speakers were in the cart. "Hogsmeade Station coming up in five minutes. If you will leave all of your luggage and things on the train they will be transported to the school separately. That is all and thank you for riding the Hogwarts Express the easiest and safest way to travel."

Harry felt his stomach flip flop as if he was on a roller coaster. He glanced at Ron and the boy was paler than the moon in the sky. Harry almost wanted to laugh but knew he probably didn't look any better, so he busied himself with tying up his Doc Martens. Finally the train slowly came to a halt. At that moment Riley entered the room dressed in black Hogwarts robes and civilian clothes carried in her hands.

"What's wrong with you guys?" she asked going to her trunk and dumping her clothes inside. She placed her hand on her hip giving him a long look. "You look like someone shot your favorite monkey."

Harry managed a smile. "Just nervous. Getting placed in a house is a big thing."

Riley laughed a little then shook her head an amused expression playing on her face. "There is nothing to it. All you have to do is try on the Sorting Hat and it'll do the rest. That's it."

"Oh!" laughed Ron, slumping his shoulders relieved. "And here I was getting nervous over nothing. Fred and George were going on about having to wrestle a troll."

They exited the door and made their way off the train. It was crowded so they had to push their way toward the door. The platform of Hogsmeade Station was tiny and dark. Very dark because the only light in the sky came from the moon and the starts in the sky. Harry shivered in the cold night air wishing now that he was back on the heated train. Ron said something about seeing someone he knew and left the side of Harry, which Harry had the problems with. Its not like they were friends merely only acquaintances.

Riley faced Harry and placed her hand on his shoulder, looking down on him she gave him a small smile. "Take care of yourself, Harry. I'll see you back at the school. No matter what house you get into I'm still your friend."

"Thanks, Riley," he smiled back. She nodded then turned following the older students who walked along the platform toward a rough looking mud track. If Harry looked hard enough through the darkness he could barely make out what looked like carriages at the end of the path. Then suddenly a lamp came on above the remaining students' heads. The bright light shined enough light to fully illuminate the entire tiny platform.

Harry along with the other gathered first years looked up, higher, higher, and higher into the broad face of a gigantic man. The man had to be seven or more feet tall the way he easily towered over them, making them seem like dwarves in comparison. The giant man was dressed in a large brown coat with many pockets along the front; his face was covered in a thick, black beard that matched his long, knotted, black hair. With his big hairy face the man beamed over their small forms.

"Firs' years! C'mon anymore firs' years out there! Come alon' all o' you," boomed the giant man.

Harry walked with careful steps, following the giant men with everyone else. He grinned seeing Draco Malfoy slip and stumble down the steep, narrow path they walked down. Trees bordered both sides of the path and only the light of the giant man's lamp allowed them to see the path. Nobody spoke much as they walked down the slippery path. Harry got his foot stepped on more than once, surprisingly he didn't retaliate for the annoying, repeated action. The giant man announced that Hogwarts would be in full view just over the bend. Anticipation swirled through the air radiating from their eager young bodies. The path they walked on suddenly opened and before them was a great black lake. In the distance nestled on the top of a huge, high mountain was a fantastical castle. Lights appeared from its many windows and its towers and turrets rose up high into the starlit sky. Harry took his eyes off the castle to look back at the lake. By the shore of the lake was a fleet of small, typical looking boats sitting in the water.

"No more'n four to a boat ever'one," shouted the giant man, pointing to the ships.

Harry treaded through the water getting on the boat nearest him. Following him was a girl with bushy brown hair and two large front teeth. Then behind her appeared Draco Malfoy. He wasn't with his two croonies so they must have been separated in the shuffle to get on a boot. Or maybe they needed a boat all to themselves since they were so big, Harry figured. Malfoy didn't look happy to share a boat with Harry or the bushy hair girl. Scowling he sat farthest away from them, arms crossed and death look trained on them. The giant man called for the boats to move forward and then they were off, gliding across the smooth lake. They weren't actually gliding it just seemed so since the lake was so smooth and quiet. Everyone stared up ahead at the castle before them as it loomed closer and closer.

"Its even more beautiful than the pictures," the girl next to Harry whispered.

Harry glanced to Malfoy and could barely hear him whisper "Must be a mudblood"

A sigh slipped from Harry's lips. He had an overwhelming urge to slap the peroxide out of Malfoy's head. Harry almost opened his mouth to snap at the blond but closed it. A sudden thought ran through his head. Starting off with an enemy so soon into the year was the wrong thing to do. Well, not the wrong thing to do but he was going on about it the wrong way. Yes, Harry thought smiling. He was doing this the wrong way. Malfoy was definitely not his friend, so it was time to institute an old proverb his father always said to him: 'Keep your friends close and keep your enemies closer.' Malfoy saw the smile on Harry's face directed at him and the permanent scowl disappeared. A hesitant smile appeared on his pale face.

"Ever'one heads down!" yelled the giant man, as they approached the towering, rocky cliff.

They ducked their heads and the boats carried them forward through a curtain of hanging ivory that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. Not the safest entrance but Harry guessed that maybe they were trying to keep the mystery ambiance going while they could. The boats carried them onwards through a dark tunnel lighted only from the glow of fireflies hovering in the air. Finally, they reached a kind of underground harbor that was filled with pebbles and small stones. Stepping from the boat onto the stone covered ground, Harry looked up and in the muted light he could make out some kind of painting or mural done on the stone ceiling. The painting was done in bright colors and it seemed to be depicting an epic battle. On one side were men women and light creatures battling against a darker appearing army, which were a group of men women and dark creatures. Each side was wielding weapons of light and in the air between them was a large crack. Not painted but a real crack in the rock face that split up both groups.

They followed the giant man up a passageway. There was no way they could keep up with him and his long strides so they followed the light of his lamp. Harry wished that the giant man would give them some directions or some kind of information on where they were going or what they could expect but he was tight lipped about the whole thing.

'I swear if they try to do some kind of hazing ritual I'm gonna snap,' Harry thought climbing up the passageway.

They came out of the passage onto the damp water covered grass of Hogwarts. Breathing like a pack of tired dogs they stood there in the huge shadow of the castle. They followed a path that led to a flight of stone steps. At the top of the stairs was the front door of the castle, huge, thick and made entirely out of oak. The kids crowded around the door like a group of bums crowding around a flaming barrel in the middle of December. The giant man made sure that everyone was accounted for then in three loud bangs he knocked with his gigantic fist upon the door.

The door swung open without a low creak. A tall witch with midnight black hair and emerald robes stood there. Harry thought she looked familiar to him, but he quickly shook the feeling off. He had never seen the stern faced woman before in his life.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said the giant man.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

She led them inside of the castle. The entrance hall was as Harry expected. It was big, no huge. Worthy of a castle this size. The ceiling was very high, flaming torches lighted the walls, and a marble staircase going to the upper floors faced them. Harry could hear voices come from a door to the right of them. The rest of the school was already here and seated by the drone of conversation that drifted from the doorway. Instead of taking them in McGonagall led them into a separate chamber that was apart from the entrance hall. The group of forty some odd kids crowded into the smaller hall.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," began the Professor in a tone that said the phrase had passed from her lips hundreds of times before. "Our annual start-of-the term banquet or feast will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall you will be sorted into your houses. The sorting is a…"

Harry tuned the Professor out already knowing what the sorting was and what houses were what. He took his time to gaze about at the other students. There were kids all from different backgrounds and ethnicity's. All of them looked nervous yet eager. Harry eyed a rather tall boy who was staring fixedly at the scar on his forehead. Harry frowned at the unwanted attention. He touched a hand to his left arm feeling the knife he kept sheathed secured there. He might not have his guns or his sword, but he would be damned if he were going into an unknown place without being armed. Some might call him paranoid, but after more than fifteen attempts on his life, others would call him prepared for the inevitable. Feeling the eyes still on him, Harry met the gaze of the tall, staring boy head on. He raised his eyebrow and the tall boy blushed, cheeks turning a slight shade of red the same color as his auburn hair.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting." Her brown eyes trailed over the nervous faces. "I shall return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly."

"Are you really nervous," said a voice.

Harry looked beside him and there was the girl he had ridden in the boat with. "Yeah, a little, I guess."

"I am too. I learned a lot of spells and read all the course books during the summer, but I'm still nervous," she said babbling. "I bet they're a lot of spells we'll have to learn this year. I read in _Hogwarts, A History_ that Hogwarts is the most famous school in the world, so it really is something to go here. I bet that--"

Harry held up his hand stopping her from continuing on. "You're babbling. I have no idea what you're talking about."

The girl shook her head, bushy brown hair flying about her. "I'm sorry. I do that sometimes," she frowned as if ashamed of herself. Brushing back her hair she smiled sheepishly. "My name is Hermione Granger."

"Harry Potter-McKnight."

Hermione flicked her eyes upward to the scar on his brow. "You really are aren't you? Wow! You're in a lot of books I've read over the summer. Did you read anything interesting over the summer?"

Harry did know that he was in a lot of books. He had came across his own name dozens of times while doing summer reading. He was about to ask what kinds of books did she normally read, but something happened that made him almost jump out of his skin. Screams filled the small hall as kids huddled up to one another. A gasp left his lips and his hand instinctively went to sheathed knife hidden under the sleeve of his robe. Twenty ghosts poured straight through the back wall. They were slightly transparent, whiter than white, and their feet didn't so much as touch the ground as they glided across the stone floor. They seemed to be caught up in an argument so they didn't even glance at the first years. Harry slipped his knife from its sheath and held it unnoticeably in his right hand. He might not be the best at knife fighting but if it came down to it, Harry could throw one with surprising accuracy.

"He deserves a second chance and as shade spirits we should give him that. Forgiveness is the way--" said a little short, balding monk.

"My good sir, Friar, Peeves has had enough chances I say. We should petition Headmaster Dumbledore for a Priest. One exorcism and we are Peeves free," said a ghost wearing tights and old, formal clothes adorned with ruffles.

At that moment Professor McGonagall returned. "Time to go. The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

The ghosts gave little waves then floated away through the opposite wall. They formed a line and followed McGonagall. Harry stood with Hermione behind him and the tall boy with auburn hair was in front of him. Harry took the opportunity to slip his knife back in its sheath on his arm. They walked out of the chamber and across the hall, through the double doors that opened into the Great Hall. It was easy to see why it was called the Great Hall. It was fucking great. Harry had been to quite a few parties and gala's hosted in impressive and extravagant places but this place, at this moment, at this time was… magical. There was four tables spaced evenly in the hall. On their surface were laid glittering, golden plates and goblets. Floating above the tables were thousands of candles bathing the room in light. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers sat in a long line. Hundreds of faces stared at them amidst the flickering candlelight.

'I had forgotten about that,' Harry thought gazing up at the ceiling in wonder. The outside sky could be seen through the ceiling. He had read in _Hogwarts, A History_ that the ceiling was enchanted to reflect the sky outside. A jet-black sky dotted with brightly glowing stars could be seen up above their heads.

They marched to the Head Table and were faced so that their backs were to the teachers. Professor McGonagall went to the side of the room and came back with a four-legged stool that she placed in front of the first years. On top of the stool she placed a pointed wizards hat. Harry stared at the hat in distaste. The books had said that the Sorting Hat was old, but they never said it was so ugly. That thing looked like something even Goodwill wouldn't want. It was dirty, frayed, and patched in multiple places. Like the rest of the hall Harry found his attention drawn to the hat. Everyone stared at it waiting. All was silent till suddenly the hat twitched and the brim opened up like a mouth and the hat began to sing:

"_Oh you may not think me pretty,  
But don't judge on what you see,  
I'll eat myself if you can find  
A smarter hat than me.  
You can keep your bowlers black,  
Your top hats sleek and tall,  
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat  
And I can cap them all.  
There's nothing hidden in your head  
The Sorting Hat can't see,  
So try me on and I will tell you  
Where you ought to be.  
You might belong in Gryffindor,  
Where dwell the brave at heart,  
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry  
Set Gryffindors apart;  
You might belong in Hufflepuff,  
Where they are just and loyal,  
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true  
And unfraid of toil;  
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,  
If you've a ready mind,  
Where those of wit and learning,  
Will always find their kind;  
Or perhaps in Slytherin  
You'll make your real friends,  
Those cunning folks use any means  
To achieve their ends.  
So put me on! Don't be afraid!  
And don't get in a flap!  
You're in safe hands (though I have none)  
For I'm a Thinking Cap!"_

(Rowling, _Sorcerers Stone _pp.117-118)

Harry didn't know whether to clap with the rest of the school or start laughing. He settled for a brief chuckle while applauding at the same time. Seeing a hat sing like it was on the BBC was utterly ridiculous or at least he thought so. What next, would they have a tap dancing, stuffed koala bear come out to serve food? Harry chalked this ludicrous event up as just another weird thing of the magical world. It was right up there with the whole 'who would name a school Hogwarts'.

Professor McGonagall stepped forward with a long roll of parchment held in her hands. Adjusting her thin, glasses she unrolled the long scroll. "When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted… Abbott, Hannah!"

A little girl whom could have passed for a blond Pippy Long Stocking shakily stepped from the line. She sat on the stool and the hat was dropped over her eyes. There was a moment's pause then silence descended in the hall. Suddenly the hat opened its brim and shouted:

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

The table on Harry's right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. The ghostly monk from before was sitting at the table and waving at her.

"Boot, Terry!"

A boy with black hair gelled into high spikes and an earring in his left ear stepped forward. The hat was placed on his head then a moment's pause.

"RAVENCLAW!"

So it went the group of forty new first years begin to thin out going to their respective house tables. It was no surprise to Harry that Malfoy became a Slytherin. The hat barely touched his head before it shouted its decision. Hermione became a Gryffindor much to her happiness. Down the alphabet the list went, going from "Moon"… "Nott"… "Parkinson" and so on and on. Personally, Harry was bored as hell. It was fucking torture waiting in line wondering how some knockoff Wizard of Oz hat was going to decide his future. Finally, McGonagall got to the P's. "Perks, Sally-Anne" sat the hat down on the stool then tottered off to the Hufflepuff table where the clapping crowd awaited her. At last McGonagall called--

"Potter, hyphen McKnight, Harry!"

Harry stepped forward, immediately whispers suddenly broke out all over the hall. The students weren't being quiet about it either.

"_Potter!_ _The Harry Potter?_

_"I don't believe it!"_

_"You think she's on the pipe?"_

_"Where the hell has he been?"_

Harry saw people about to break their necks as they craned to get a good look at him. He felt like some kind of animal in the zoo the way they stared. He held his head up high and walked with purpose to the stool. He wasn't about to let them make him nervous. Well, he wasn't about to let them make him more nervous than he already was. He plopped down on the stool and took a deep breath, suppressing the urge to give the ogling students the finger. Harry could barely make out Riley smiling at him before next second he was looking at blackness or the inside of the Sorting Hat. He waited placing his hands in his lap.

"Well now, I thought I would be seeing you soon," said a small voice right in his ear. With a start Harry realized that the hat was talking to him. He kept his thoughts blank feeling surprisingly violated as the dirty, old hat plucked through his memories and deepest, darkest thoughts. "Now _you are_difficult to place, now aren't you? Let's see… You have plenty loyalty. You would stick by your father and closest friends through anything… but there's more. Slytherin would be an excellent place…"

Harry almost snatched the hat off his head. Instead he gripped the edges of his stool and vehemently thought, _Not Slytherin you dirty motherfucker. No way am I going to live in a house that worships the man who killed my parents! He's practically the Poster Boy of Slytherin. Those little bastards would probably cut my throat in my sleep then make it look like an accident. So you can cut that line of thinking right now or I swear I'll donate you to charity._

The hat chuckled. "Not Slytherin, I see. Quite the mouth you have on you, too! You swear more than Godric himself and that's saying something! Let's see… Gryffindor is not an option… You and Riley… Same house… Those kids would die within a week."

Harry frowned thinking, _We wouldn't kill anyone. So they're a little preppy and materialistic…_

"Like I said, one week. I know just the place where you will be the most likely to succeed. Wait… Oh well this is interesting… Hmm… Curiouser and Curiouser… for the Little Lord let it be RAVENCLAW!"

Harry took off the hat and walked toward the table that was cheering the loudest. In fact they were on their seats clapping and cheering. The whole hall was clapping but this table was damn near in hyperactive mode. Harry shook hands with those at the table, barely registering the flashing of a few cameras going off in the hall nor the fainting girl who fell on the floor after Harry shook her hand. He sat down at the table taking the time to properly look around. From this view he could clearly see the Head Table now. In the center sat a man in a high, gold chair. He was very old, with long, white hair and beard. On his head was a purple hat that matched his robes. This was Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster. Ron Weasley became a Gryffindor and "Zabini, Blaise" was made a Slytherin. Then that was it. McGonagall rolled the scroll up and took the stool away.

Dumbledore rose to his feet, arms open wide and smile on his face bright as the sun. "Hello and welcome all, new and old! Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I know you are all hungry so Avalon! Fincayra! Tir-Na-Nog!"

He sat back down and everybody clapped and cheered like it was their birthday. Harry was about to blurt out what the fuck but he stopped at the sudden appearance of food on the table. From thin air appeared many different varieties of foods that he had seen at many banquets. Harry filled up his plate with as much food as it could hold. For some particularly reason he felt really hungry. It was only after he bit into his steak that he realized that the last time he had ate was this morning at breakfast. Near Harry sat a ghost who as far as ghost went was very pretty. She was young and her hair cascaded down her back in waves. Her dress was fancy and jewelry adorned her arms and neck.

"Your eyes are very eye catching," she said to Harry. "I'm sorry. My name is Lady Morgana."

"Harry Potter-McKnight. And thank you," he said politely. He wanted to ask how she became a ghost but he figured that would be too personal of a question to out-right ask. Instead he settled for light conversation on the classes and everyday things to do around Hogwarts.

"How did that ghost over there get covered in blood?" asked Stephen Cornfoot, another first year. He had light brown hair that could have passed for blond. He pointed across the hall to a tall, gaunt faced, ghost that sat at the Slytherin table. He was indeed covered in blood and sitting next to Draco Malfoy who didn't look please about the seating.

Lady Morgana frowned, "It was quite a tragedy, I say. Trust me on my word that you are better off not knowing of the matter."

When everyone finished eating and were patting their stomachs, the remains vanished from their plates leaving them clean as new. A second later dessert appeared from thin air, just like the food from earlier. They dug in helping them selves to ice cream and Jell-O, cake, doughnuts…

Harry dug into his vanilla ice cream while tuning his hearing into the conversation going on around him.

"I'm full-blood," said Kevin Entwhistle, a golden haired boy with a Scottish accent. "Grandma says that she can trace our line back before the Great Move, when the Fairy Folk immigrated to America."

"What about you, Anthony," asked Terry, talking to a brown haired boy by the name of Anthony Goldstein.

Anthony shrugged his shoulders. "I'm muggleborn. I didn't even suspect I could do magic till one day some kids chased me around the school and the next thing I know, I'm in the library."

Stephen Cornfoot and Michael Corner both were muggleborns and had similar stories. The new first year girls of Ravenclaw were off in their own conversation. From what Harry could see there were five girls. Lisa Turpin, Padma Patil, Morag McDougal, Su Li, and Mandy Brocklehurst. One less number the boys.

The Ravenclaws had some sense about them for they had enough tact not to bring up Harry being the Boy Who Lived not one time during dinner. They kept the conversation light. Talking about books, childhood magical accidents, or classes and what they expected. Harry found himself liking these kids. Here he didn't get blank looks when talking about a certain book that others would find boring, instead he was met with interest and similar views. However he might like them he didn't bring up the topic on their views of how a 9 mm Browning Hi-Power would handle. That would be just a little TMI. Harry's gaze wandered to the High Table and he met the dark stare of a greasy, haired man. Harry felt a slight throb come from his scar but he checked the pain continuing the staring contest. Finally, the man looked away.

"Who is that teacher?" asked Harry to Wesley Price a prefect whom sat near him.

"Oh, that is Professor Snape. Best advice I can give you is, don't ever get on his bad side."

Harry nodded continuing his staring at the High Table. His eyes landed on a Professor with pale skin and pointed features. What was odd was the turban wrapped around his head. Harry bit the inside of his cheek as a scream threatened to rip from his throat. Pain like he had never felt before overwhelmed him all over his body. His vision blurred as he stared at the Professor. Suddenly, his form shifted and Harry could see another overlaying image appear over the teacher. It was a floating specter of darkness with piercing red eyes.

Harry heard a low, deep voice inside his mind. '_I. See. You,'_

"Harry, you okay?" asked Kevin Cornfoot shaking his shoulder.

Harry broke his gaze and instantly the pain faded till it was just a memory. Nodding absently, he pressed a hand to his forehead where his scar felt like it was about to peel off his brow. Whoever or whatever that guy was… It sure in the hell wasn't pure human. He was some kind of demon possessed man, evil practically rolled off of him like waves. Harry looked around lost and confused. No one else seemed to sense or feel what he felt, or see what he saw.

"Why were you looking at Professor Quirrell like that, mate?" asked Kevin curiously.

Harry shrugged carelessly but on the inside he was shaking. He schooled his emotions fixing his face into a smile. The first rule to staying alive in the world Harry lived in was, 'Always keep your emotions in check. To kill someone disable your emotions for only a warrior must remain to do the deed.'

"I don't know," he lied smoothly. "I just thought he looked familiar."

Professor Dumbledore rose to his feet once again after the dessert faded away from their plates. His bright blue eyes twinkled in the light. "The feasts seem to get better and better each year," smiled Dumbledore. "Now its time for the usual start of the term notices. The Forbidden forest is off limits to all students—hence the name. Mr. Filch has asked me to remind you that tracking mud in the corridors will not be tolerated. A list of appropriate punishments are tacked outside his office door if one is interested in come seeing it."

Harry felt like Dumbledore was going on and on with his speech. Only thing he really caught was that the third-floor corridor was off limits or death would be involved. Unintentionally he began to tune Dumbledore and the world around him out. His green eyes blinked as he recognized the sounds of singing going on around him. The whole school was singing the school song apparently. The words were written in the air in shimmering blue light. There was a small percentage of chance that on a good day Harry would have joined in with the school singing, but now… now was just not the time. He was not in a singing mood. Right now his feelings about safety were very low. His very being was telling him that danger was near. Planning and plotting, waiting for the perfect time to strike. His father was definitely not going to like this…

The school was dismissed and Harry followed the rest of his housemates along out of the Great Hall and up the marble staircase in the entrance hall. Harry was tired but he kept himself on alert. Danger could come from around any corner. They walked following Wesley Price, the prefect, through narrow hallways and hidden passages. Eventually they came to a large, long mirror that was framed in silver. Wesley stepped in front of the mirror looking dignified and important. Harry kept his hand on his sheathed knife feeling safer with it in quick reach.

"This is the entrance to the Ravenclaw common room," said Wesley loudly enough for them to hear but not for people to overhear. "To enter you must speak the password and enter." He turned to the mirror and said, "Knowledge is power."

The mirror's surface rippled like disturbed water. It was a beautiful effect, Harry thought. "Follow me," said Wesley stepping through the moving wavelike surface of the mirror. Shrugging Harry and the others followed him. They found themselves in the Ravenclaw common room, a large room, rounded in shape. Many armchairs and wooden tables dotted the room. All furniture was a vibrant blue and only the edgings of things were bronze. The Ravenclaw house colors. A sofa sat in front of a roaring fireplace and along one wall was a huge bookshelf filled with rows upon rows of books. On a table in front of the bookcase sat a row of thick books that appeared important the way they stood away on there own table.

"These books here," said Wesley pointing to the important looking books. "These are the Chronicles. Any book that is in the Hogwarts library can be accessed through these books." He picked up a book from the row and held it to his mouth. "The Necromian Codex Vol. XCII."

He opened the book and on its blank pages appeared words that filled the entire book instantly. Harry would have found this interesting but he was ready to sleep. Now was really not the time to play show and tell. Wesley showed them to their dormitory that was up a set of spiraling stairs. The First Year boys had a room to themselves. Six four poster beds went around the circular room. Deep blue, velvet curtains hung around their beds and their trunks and other things had already been brought up. Harry found Thor asleep on his bed. As the others drifted to bed Harry went to his trunk and took out his sword. The shortsword shined in the moonlight drifting in through the window. Using a spell he had learned from a book, Harry stuck his sword above his bedpost magically gluing it to the wall. It wouldn't move unless he took it down, and if someone sneaked up on him in his sleep he would be ready for them.

Harry fell onto his bed feeling a little bit better at having his sword near him. Thor curled up into his side, getting close as he could to Harry's warmth. Harry fell asleep with too many thoughts on his mind. The main was:

'_What in the hell is Professor Quirrell?'_


	7. The Punisher

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter either. It belongs to its creator J.K. Rowling and probably Warner Bros. too. I'm not too sure about that. This piece of literature is simply the work of a humble fan.

* * *

:Author Notes:

This will be leaning more toward alternate reality. It will have the same characters just a different spin on things. If you're not a fan or strong cursing or maybe even violence and bloodshed then there is a good chance that this story isn't for you.

* * *

"I do not believe in a God of theology who rewards good and punishes evil." Albert Einstein, _Great Scientist and Thinker_

**Potter**

Chapter Six: The Punisher

By: Water Mage

The Grand White Gala was a huge affair, with literally hundreds of guests, most of whom wanted to attract attention. The festive event was held in the main ballroom located on the extensive grounds of the McKnight Estate. Guests walked amongst each other, looking ethereal in their white gowns and all white suits. A requirement for this affair was that clothing had to be white, hence the name of the gala. Soft, soothing music drifted through the halls of the mansion played by a band with instruments that sparkled in the light of the high-hanging chandelier. The guests paused in their conversations to admire the fountains that shot crystal, clear water into their air, rainbows glittering in their spray. Ice sculptures dotted the room glistening in the light as they melted slowly. An overall very impressive and expensive display, no one could say that Killian McKnight didn't know how to plan a party.

He was small in this dream. A child. Nine-year-old, Harry sat in a corner partially hidden by an ice sculpture of a beautiful goddess. Sighing, he tugged at the collar of his stiff white dress shirt. His white suit jacket bunched up at the elbows as he reached up to yank at the collar. Harry watched with bored green eyes as couples danced ballroom style, twisting and turning intricately upon the dance floor. Everyone wore smiles of delight as they wove around the room greeting friends and making new ones. Killian was a master in his art as he made sure that each guest was attended to and always had company to converse with. Harry knew that however happy his father appeared to be, he still was on guard around these people. Hell, Harry was too. He knew that those in the room were loyal to the McKnight's but that didn't prevent him from forgetting that everyone in this room were dangerous each in their own right. The people attending this gala weren't ordinary people they and their entourage made up the Empire.

All of the crime families loyal to the McKnight's accompanied by their guard were in attendance tonight. After all it wasn't nice to _not_ attend an affair hosted by a guy who could wipe out you and everything you've worked for with but a word. Harry counted the major families and they were all here. Of course they would be, he mused. Killian was their leader. All the major families officially were known as the alpha kobols, while the other families were the lesser kobols. All together they were the Empire, lead solely by Killian 'Killer' McKnight, Master of London. Nobody, including illegal things got in or out of his city without him knowing about it. That's how far his power stretched. Everything got back to Killian. Everything.

Harry caught his father's eye and the older man gave him a wink. Todd and Dylan flanked either side of him, always a step away but otherwise within range. Harry realized this was a dream but he couldn't help but go through the motions, for this was a memory not just a figment of his own imagination. Harry knew what was about to happen he had lived through this before after all.

Suddenly a commotion was heard from the glass doors that opened outside to the gardens. Gasps and shouts of surprise came from the people near the commotion. The music from the band cut off promptly. The other guest including Harry and Killian who couldn't see what the fuss was about stood in their spots. Rule one hundred and seventy nine of staying alive was never go towards the startling noise. Just as they all noticed the noise a loud, echoing voice reverberated though the ballroom.

"Killian McKnight! You and I have unfinished business!"

The crowd parted and they were able to see who was the source of the disturbance. A young man with shocking white hair, not gray but white, dressed completely in black leather appeared in view. His chiseled face held a pair of midnight blue eyes that burned with an inner fire as he glared stonily at Killian. People would have already rushed this young man except for the fact that he held Darren Crawford, leader of the Triad alpha kobol, at gunpoint. A Beretta 9mm was held tightly in his hand pointing directly to Crawford's temple. It was not meant for wounding.

Killian's eyes widened surprise flashing over his normally controlled features. A name fell softly from his lips "Deacon Turner."

Deacon stared at Killian hatefully. A vein throbbed on his forehead as he glared with fire burning in his eyes. "I see you remember me arsehole!"

Todd and Dylan stepped closer to their master their guns drawn and ready once they had a clear shot or Killian simply gave the order to shoot, even with Darren Crawford in the line of fire. Harry could see that Crawford's own bodyguards, the well-known group nicknamed Hell's Knights, were itching to help their boss.

Killian gave Deacon a calm, measured look that seemed odd given the tense situation. "Of course I remember you. It wasn't two day's ago that my men put a bullet through your head. Still alive too. Pity."

Deacon sneered at the man eyes daring the surrounding guards to try anything. "You should have made sure I was dead. I promised myself a year ago that I would bring down your organization and I meant it. Too many people have died in the crossfire between you and rival leaders. Innocent people. My wife."

"So, what… Do you want an award? Guess what?" said Killian placidity. "I don't give a fuck."

Deacon cocked back the hammer on the gun, the action sounded louder than it should have in the quiet room. People watched to see what he would do. Darren Crawford was keeping his composure but all could see the beads of sweat that formed on his brow collecting together to run down his face in thin trails. Dull gray eyes were open and staring out meeting the eyes of his wife, who watched the entire scene with anger and fear swimming in her blue irises.

"I told you when we faced off that I would put a bullet in you some bright, sunshiny day," said Deacon his voice carrying through the room.

Harry's eyes swept to his father whose lips thinned and hands clenched tightly into fists. Anger. Oh yeah, Killian was officially pissed. Little Harry grinned turning his eyes back to Deacon. The other man was grinning too, but for different reasons. Harry knew what was about to happen to him, but Deacon thought that getting a reaction from Killian was funny. He didn't know just how wrong he was.

Killian stared the white haired man down. "Threats will not save you, Turner."

Deacon smiled sweetly. "You either, motherfucker."

That was all it took. Killian nodded his head then from all over the room there was flurry of instantaneous movement. Women reached into handbags or underneath their gowns to thigh holsters, men reached underneath white jackets to shoulder holsters or to the back of their pants. There was a series of _clicks_ as almost a hundred or more guns were cocked. This all happened faster than someone could say the words Cinemax. Deacon blinked staring at all of the guns trained on him. Everyone in the room had a gun, women, men, hell even the band, and all of their sights were aimed on him. Darren reached back with his elbow, nailing Deacon in the gut knocking the air from his lungs. He wrestled from his grip, leaving Deacon in open sight. A monotone '_kill him'_ left the lips of Killian. Harry covered his ears as the people fired their guns delivering hot lead into the body of Deacon Turner. His eyes rolled back in his head as blood spurred from holes in his chest like geysers. The crimson liquid spit up from his lips trailing down the side of his mouth like thick drool.

The gunshots stopped when the body fell to the ground in a lifeless heap. The dream, child version of Harry moved closer just as he did when it actually happened. Blood ran from the body like it would never stop. There are roughly two gallons of blood in the human body. As much blood as they try to use in the movies it is never enough. Try dumping out two gallons of milk on your bedroom floor and see what a mess it makes, now multiply that by . . . something. Harry reached down touching his fingers to the warm, sticky blood. It was crimson contrasting sharply against the pale, whiteness of his fingers.

There was a smell that came from the blood. Harry knew the smell of fresh blood and what he currently smelled wasn't it. It smelled no way like blood… more like chocolate. Harry stared up in the dream for the first time realizing that he was indeed dreaming. The smell however was real.

Harry woke instantly, hand automatically reaching for the shortsword that was attached to the wall above his headboard. He moved without thinking only going on reflex as his hand gripped the handle of his blade. The sword easily slipped from its scabbard cutting through the air, held in Harry's sure steady grip. The tip of the blade halted in the air, an inch away from pale flesh of Kevin Entwhistle. Kevin gulped, eyes wide golden blond hair fallen forgotten onto his face. He stared down horrified at the sight of the sword that was an inch away from slicing his throat. A chocolate bar, bigger than a fist, once held in his grip clattered to the floor, breaking into pieces.

"Holy shit!"

Harry's heart was thudding in his throat, slowly he set down his blade to look across the room. Terry Boot stood at his bedside half-dressed, shirt gone but pants on gawking. His black hair was already gelled and styled expertly into spikes he sported last night at the feast. Laying down Deathdealer, Harry took a look around the room. The three other boys, Anthony, Stephen and Michael were already gone to breakfast judging by their made up beds. That only left Terry, Harry and Kevin still in the room and currently engaged in the staring contest. Kevin stepped back smartly out of the swords reach. Harry sighed brushing back a stray lock of hair that had fallen onto his face. He tucked it behind his ear and gave what he hoped was a reassuring look. It seemed to work because the two boys let out the breaths they were holding.

Harry turned his gaze to Kevin, communicating with his eyes how apologetic he was. "Sorry."

Kevin smiled a shaky smile. "No problem. I didn't mean to… scare you."

Harry inwardly scowled at the word scared. He wasn't scared. Just rightly cautious. You didn't sneak up on members of the Empire. Especially while they were sleeping. Harry heard stories of how people had lost their lives because of surprising a member of the Empire. It just wasn't something you did. The Ravenclaws didn't know this fact but after today, Harry bet they would from now on.

"Um… So what's with the sword?" asked Terry throwing on his shirt, buttoning it while looking at Harry.

Kevin nodded in agreement. "You pulled it out so fast, so I'm guessing you study martial arts."

"Yeah," answered Harry, leaving off the fact what kinds of martial arts he actually studied. Couldn't have them too much into his business. "I do study. The sword was a gift from my teachers."

"Everyone already went down to breakfast. We're late risers," said Terry, changing the subject. He could sense how awkward the situation had made them.

Harry was grateful for the opportunity to change topics. He engaged the boys in conversation throwing back the comforter. For the first time Harry noticed Kevin's eyes. He couldn't believe he hadn't before. They were a very light lavender. Lilac if he had to pick a specific color, a definite showstopper they were. They boys talked about the one thing that was on their mind as they got ready for the day. Classes. They were nervous more than anxious to face the day each wondering how they would do magical talent wise. Harry finished doing up the knot of his tie in the bathroom that was connected to the room. A long mirror rested against the wall and a counter top with three sinks was stationed right below the mirror. Shower stalls with opaque doors lined the wall furthest from the door and toilet stalls stood right next to the showers. He took a deep breath stepping back to fully look himself over in the mirror. The Hogwarts uniform consisted of black slacks, dark shoes (preferably black), and white dress shirt with tie. A sleeveless gray sweater vest went over the white shirt and the standard black robe went over the whole outfit.

Harry looked at the new crest that adorned his robe. It was on the right side directly over his heart. He touched a finger to the silver and blue patch. On the crest was a black raven in flight directly underneath etched in flowing script was _Ravenclaw_. Harry walked out of the bathroom into the dormitory where Kevin and Terry were just finished getting ready.

"Hey guys," asked Harry, still running his finger over the crest. "I know that I bought standard black robes and the ones I bought didn't have this crest here."

Kevin shrugged a grin on his face. "Its magic, mate. Things like that happen all the time around here."

"We'll it better be free, I'm not paying fucking extra. Expensive as it is already," muttered Terry, placing his earring in his left ear. It was a small, silver Christian cross.

Harry caught the flinch that came from Kevin when he glimpsed the religious item. Harry didn't ponder it for Terry picked up his wand asked if they were ready to go. They walked down the spiral staircase and out of the common room that had a few people sitting around talking. They exited the common room from the mirror then set off finally stopping when they got to the end of the hallway.

Kevin rubbed the back of his head looking sheepish. "Anyone remember how to get to the Great Hall?"

That set them into a groaning fit. Of course they didn't remember.

They never made it to breakfast. The school was a fucking maze. Harry decided that if he ever invented a time machine his first trip would be to go back to day Hogwarts was built. Whichever Founder suggested the idea of moving staircases would get a bullet right through the fucking head. The staircases, all of them were impossible. Either they were too narrow, too rickety, missing a step, or just plain not there. Harry had forgot about that one simple fact. The staircases of Hogwarts moved. It was of course in _Hogwarts, A History_ but that didn't prepare one for actually finding them selves suddenly on a staircase that had the nerve to start moving while one was in mid step. During the great adventure to find the Great Hall the boys laughed at everything finding the entire situation funny. Being in a new foreign place and finding a person who can stand to be around you and they laugh at your jokes is the things friendships are made of. Kevin suddenly gave a yelp and tripped, landing square on his face. Terry and Harry cracked up laughing. Oh yeah, a real bonding experience.

"There you boys are."

They spun around facing the voice. Harry's hand instinctively went to his arm where his knife was sheathed. He let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding seeing who the person was. It was Lady Morgana in all her spectral glory. Her bare feet didn't touch the ground, instead her translucent body floated a foot above the floor. Harry could actually see through her. A suit of armor stood directly behind her. Creepy. Very, very, creepy.

Lady Morgana smiled at them like a teacher would a student. "Professor Flitwick, that's your head of house, was looking for you three at breakfast. He was handing out timetables. Since you weren't there he wanted me to give them to you." She snapped her fingers and three slips of paper fell from nowhere right above their heads. They fluttered down dropping into their respective owner's open hands.

Harry looked to her curiosity written all over his face. "How did you do that? I didn't know ghosts had that kind of power."

Morgana just smiled mysteriously and floated away through the wall of the corridor beside them. The bell rang signaling the end of breakfast. The rumbling of footsteps, sounding like the booming of thunder made them conclude that it was now time for classes to start. They watched as from either side of the corridor came the sound of hundreds of footsteps. The next moment students were crashing into the passage from both ends. Harry glanced at his timetable and frowned, reading what was the first class of the day.

"We have Defense Against the Dark Arts, first," said Terry, smiling. "I wonder what we'll do. It sounds like a real fun class. At least the name does."

Harry personally didn't think so. He knew who taught the class. The same man who gave off the non-human vibe was the teacher and Harry wasn't looking forward to being in the same class as Professor Quirrell. There was something about him… a darkness surrounding him. It was threatening. It was… evil… and it could feel Harry the same way he felt _it_.

'_Fuck!'_ Harry swore in his mind, walking with Terry and Kevin down the corridor. '_Why do I have the feeling like that bastard wants to rip out my throat.'_

For the first time Harry become aware of the other kids in the hallway. So caught up in his own musing he hadn't noticed them. The students weren't even subtle about their staring, pointing, or whispering. Harry had very good hearing so he happened to catch quite a few of their conversations.

"I can't believe that's Harry-fucking-Potter!"

"No, right there. The one in the middle. You can't miss that scar."

"I always figured he would be taller. You know taking out the Dark Lord and all."

"You think he remembers anything?"

Harry's green eyes flashed with anger. Without his glasses they seemed even brighter then they usually did with the specs covering them. Terry and Kevin stood on both side of Harry glaring at whoever stared or pointed their way. Harry had to bite the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from cussing out all the staring teens. He took deep breaths calming down, mentally counting to ten inside his head. It wouldn't do for their savoir to go off on those he _saved_. He did have to smile at Terry and Kevin for people he had just met they were awfully protective. Their hostile glares reminded him of his father's own personal bodyguards, Todd and Dylan the Angels of Death, commanders of the Archangels.

"Don't let those assholes get to you, Harry," said Kevin, shooting the finger to a girl whom was pointing at Harry like he wasn't even there, talking at the top of her lungs.

Harry couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips seeing Kevin flick that girl off. It wasn't that he hated being famous. He was used to stares considering whom his father was, but the conversations and worshipful looks bordering on awe was unnerving. He either had to get used to it or go crazy with an AK high-powered rifle and kill everybody in the joint. A smile definitely came to his face at that thought.

"Hey, there goes Anthony," said Kevin.

Sure enough they saw Anthony and their other fellow Ravenclaws filing into a classroom. The Defense Against the Dark Arts room. They trailed along leading the back of the line. Harry just followed the crowd then once inside he made sure to choose a seat in the middle of the room at angle so he could always see the door. Never sit with your back to the door was a rule that had been drilled into his head since childhood. Harry took the time to glance around. It was very large, rectangular with various supernatural paraphernalia littering the room. Garlic hung from the ceiling filling the room with its strong smell. Other objects like stuffed dead animal heads hung from the walls, moving pictures of dangerous creatures stuck to the ceiling, and the windows were curtained letting the light barely into the room. Golden oblongs of sunshine that did pass through the thin curtains lay heavy on a dusty, stone floor. Harry had to breathe through his mouth because the smell in the room was so strong, but that didn't help much. The smell just stuck to the roof of his mouth like bad candy.

"You guys ready?" asked Padma Patil who sat behind them.

Since it was three to a table, Morag McDougal and Su Li sat on either side of her. They flashed smiles of anticipation waiting for Professor Quirrell to show up. Harry didn't see what was so smile worthy. The fact that Professor Quirrell was possessed or the fact that he was evil. It really wasn't looking too good either fact. For reassurance Harry touched his sheathed knives on his arms. He felt safer but not much. The feeling of overpowering evil he sensed last night still registered fresh in his mind.

'_I wonder what Dad is going to say when I tell him?'_ thought Harry.

Harry suddenly straightened in his seat, eyes narrowing as they stared at the door. A wave of dread flooded him, from inside. He didn't know how he was suddenly sensing these things but they felt normal, apart of him. A feeling in his gut told him that it was normal. He shook his head dragging himself from his thoughts. The door opened and Professor Quirrell walked in flashing them a nervous smile. In his hands was his wand and a briefcase that had papers sticking out from its closed lid. He strode toward his desk in long steps then in mid step he gave a yell and tripped landing face first on the ground. The students didn't know whether to laugh or fell sorry for the Professor. Blushing a cheery red, Professor Quirrell stood up collecting his things and sat them on his desk with a loud clatter.

'_This is the man I'm sensing evil from? I must either be crazy or he's a real good actor.'_ Harry stared at the blushing man completely dumbfounded. A quiet gasp of surprise left his lips as he unconsciously reached out with whatever new senses he had to the man. Harry could see it in his mind eye. His new senses reached out like a quiet wind, little tendrils of energy floating across the room, searching and touching. They, the energy or whatever it was, probed Quirrell and he could feel it…

Hate. Power. Desperation . . . and Death. So much death.

'_Fuck crazy, he's a real good actor.'_

Harry stared at Quirrell in new light barely muttering a present as he took the roll. He gulped at Harry's name giving the boy a lingering look. To everyone else it looked like a bit of star struck or hero worship. But Harry wasn't fooled he could almost see a flash of red in the depths of his eyes before he blinked missing it. Terry shared a look with Kevin moving his eyes to Harry in a hidden 'look at him' gesture. Terry looked seeing the focused gaze the Boy Who Lived wore. He followed the stare directly to Professor Quirrell.

"I'm fine, guys," spoke Harry quietly, making them both jump. He gave them a look. "I'm just paying attention, is all. Nothing to worry about."

Quirrell clapped his hands together taking his time to gaze around the room. "S-s-so class, this is Defense Agaisnt the D-D-ark Arts," he said softly his stutter very noticeable with his light voice. "T-t-t-throughout the year we will learn what exactly counts as Black Magic and what goes in the category of the Dark Arts. F-f-first I'll tell you a little about myself. I'm Professor Quintein Quirrell. I-I-I-I have extensive knowledge of this subject. My ski-skills have helped a lot of people. O-once in Africa a prince of a small village gave me this turban as gift for getting rid of a particularly nasty zombie."

Mandy Broklehurst a red head girl with braces stuck her hand into the air. He nodded at her and she spoke so the whole class heard. "Are you a Necromancer, sir?" she asked eagerly. "I thought only an Animator or Necromancer could lay a zombie back to rest."

Quirrell flushed. "No, I'm not either one. I simply set the zombie on fire with a spell. That was easy compared to the vampires I've killed."

The whole class except for Harry was entranced. He simply rolled his eyes practically tasting the lies. At the word vampires they sat up even more, practically hanging on his words.

"Vampires?" asked Anthony Goldstein. "How did you kill them, sir? I've heard they can bench press cars."

"I've heard they can hypnotize people with their eyes."

"I heard they can fly."

Quirrell's face washed over with nervousness. He began to stutter. Bad. They couldn't even hear the words he was saying he was stuttering so badly. All over the room the Ravenclaws gave each other eye rolls. They understood now. Quirrell was a complete and utter liar. That was the moment they decided Defense Agaisnt the Dark Arts was nothing more than a joke. They zoned out as Quirrell completely changed the subject going on about the stars and then the weather. He face was pink as he babbled on and on about complete nonsense. Harry narrowed his eyes at the Professor. What was he trying to pull? He could _feel_ the power rolling off the man so why was he pretending to be this mild mannered Clark Kent wannabe. Two hours later they climbed down the stairs, leading down to the Great Hall. Other students were streaming towards the doors also, the smell of lunch urging them on.

"Well that was a waste of time," said Terry, munching on a piece of gravy soaked toast.

Kevin nodded in agreement. "Tell me about it. I wanted to take my wand and stick it into my brain to put myself out of misery."

Harry smiled, letting the tension that had come from Quirrell's presence slowly leave him. "Or you could have taken it and shoved it in Quirrell's brain."

Terry and Kevin laughed, Terry accidentally spitting bits of biscuits onto the table. Harry smiled along with them. On the inside he was nowhere near smiling. He cast a hidden look to the Teachers Table where Quirrell sat fiddling with the edge of his turban. He stabbed his fork into his sandwich thinking:

'_Who said I was fucking kidding.'_

Harry turned as someone slid into the seat beside him. He caught a flash of blond hair and familiar smile before he was caught up in a huge hug. "I didn't get a chance to tell you congrats last night, Harry."

"Hello to you too, Riley," said Harry his voice muffled, because his face was dug into her shoulder.

Terry licked his index finger smoothing down his dark eyebrows. He fixed his tie before fixing his mouth into a decidedly dangerous smile. "So Harry who is your friend?"

Kevin and Harry looked at each other then to Riley. They all caught the soft, almost purr Terry had put into his voice. Riley blinked not sure if she was actually hearing and seeing what she thought she was. Catching a look from Harry she guessed right.

"I'm Riley…. You are?"

Terry licked his lips slowly, leering at her. "I'm Terry Boot. Your future boyfriend hopefully soulmate. So, what's your sign?"

Riley raised a thin blond eyebrow. That was decidedly the worst pickup line she had ever heard. Not to mention how bad it sounded coming from an eleven-year-old. The only conclusion she could come with was… Terry had an older brother. "My sign…" she smiled giddily. Riley paused for a single moment thinking, then suddenly her face lost all expression. "Unavailable."

"Well, fuck," pouted Terry.

Kevin grinned slyly. "Which is precisely what _won't_ be happening."

Riley rolled her eyes turning to Harry. "What class do you have next?"

"Double Potions with the Hufflepuffs," replied Harry, not even bothering to look at his timetable. He had memorized what classes he had for today.

Riley drew back a dark look coming over her face. "Snape," she hissed. Immediately she gave Harry a look of pity. "Poor you. Harry whatever you do check your attitude at the door because that man is Hades incarnate. If men could have PMS he would be the spokesman."

"So, I'm thinking its not wise to cross him?" asked Harry.

Riley nodded her quickly. "Damn right. The man is crazy. He _really_ hates Gryffindors, favors Slytherins, and just plain hates the rest of the student body."

"I'll keep that in mind…"

He did too. Harry sat in the drafty dungeons of the potions classroom waiting with his peers for the Professor to arrive. They sat at tables that went four to a table. There were two columns of tables with eight tables in each column. The windows were long with heavy appearing shutters that were at this time wide open, letting in plenty of light into the huge room. All around the wall in dusty shelves were jarred animal parts and creepy, glowing vials. Whispers of conversations floated through the space keeping the noise of the room at a dull roar. Everyone was throwing in their speculations of what they thought Professor Snape was going to be like. It seems that they all in the room had heard bad things of Snape and no one, not a single person was actually looking forward to today's lesson.

__

Bang!

They all snapped their heads toward the loud disturbance. In strode Professor Severus Snape through the door his black cloak swishing behind him as if he commanded it to. All eyes in the room followed the man. Which was precisely what he was going for. Idly, Harry wondered if the guy had a thing for theatrics. The scowl on his face only added to his villain like performance. Snape moved to the front of the class standing before them stiller than any statue. His eyes were the only thing that moved and they slowly scanned their young faces, memorizing every line and curve of their face. Harry kept his smile from showing on his face by instead directing his gaze down at the table. It was just really too much. The whole performance just screamed '_Hey! I was picked on in High School but look at me now!'_

Snape's attire was a black robe with a matching black cloak clasped at his neck. His boots were black also, along with his hair that fell to his shoulders curling slightly right above where they hit. His hair might have been pretty if he washed it but the greasiness of it was just too much. Then like a bad robot not fit to even be an extra in a sci fi movie he began to talk. His voice was monotone, low, spoken softly so they had to strain their ears to hear what he said.

"I am Professor Snape. Here you will learn the complex, ancient art of potion making. I don't expect all of you to pass my class since it takes steady hands and a sharp mind to brew potions, which I'm sure many of you, lack one or both of these qualities. I will not tolerate any disobedience, child play, or any unnecessary talking. This class is not about foolish wand waving but about art, skill." Silence filled the room no one knew whether to clap or start taking notes. Snape went to his desk, picking up a scroll he unrolled it and began to read off names for attendance. At Harry's name he actually had a smart comment to make.

"Hmm… Harry Potter," he said softly. "The boy savior has finally decided to grace Hogwarts with his _presence_."

Harry kept his face blank not letting his internal emotions be expressed. '_What the fuck?!'_

Kevin glared at Snape his eyes looking like two glowing lilacs. He and Terry both stared at the Professor icily. The three of them had bonded during their time today. A connection had formed between them that would strengthen over time. They hadn't shared any deep dark fears or secrets but the act of standing up for one another made them close. An act of protecting a friend is something that is not taken likely and forgotten.

Snape finished the roll then spun around facing Harry. He stared into Harry's eyes and he met the gaze head on. Harry found himself swimming in those eyes. On first glance one would think that Snape's eyes are inky black but that is not the case. In fact, Snape's eyes are blue. There are just so dark that they look black. Harry felt himself feeling light headed the intense stare of the Professor seemed to have an actual affect on him physically. Harry fought off the feeling, mentally slapping himself from the daze. '_Please don't tell me this motherfucker is physic.'_

"Potter!" snapped Professor Snape. Harry wondered if the man could read minds. "I've been calling your name for the past minute. Has fame gone to your head that you can't answer to your own name? Or do you just go by the Boy Who Lived?"

Harry saw red the insults cutting deep. He could almost feel something inside of him snap, as his rage and anger burst free like a damn had been removed. He stood up quickly his chair scraping along the stone floor as it slid back colliding with the table behind him. He was so tired of it all. The stares, whispers, the creepy new senses he picked up from nowhere. The stress had built up and Professor Snape just had to be the kid at the zoo who poked the dangerous, sleeping tiger with a stick. The tiger just woke up…

"Don't talk to me like that," said Harry his head bowed low, hands clenched tightly into fist. "That's your last fucking warning. The next time I won't warn you."

The room was bathed in silence. The only sounds came from their breathing. Everyone looked from Snape to Harry seeing who would win this battle. Terry made a move as to stand up but Anthony who sat beside him grabbed his sleeve shaking his head. Snape crossed his arms over his chest his sneer still fixed into place as if screwed on.

"Are threatening to harm me, Potter?" asked Snape in a dangerously soft voice.

Harry let all emotion drain from his face and he finally looked up at Snape, giving him a glimpse of what he was up against. Harry detached himself from all emotions. This was his warrior mode if he had a weapon in hand he wouldn't have blinked twice at having the blood of Severus Snape on his hands. This look meant pure death… It was the same look that sent chills into the hearts of some of the ruling clans… the look he saw in Killian McKnight. There was coldness in Harry's eyes. Behind the cold there was darkness waiting to be unleashed. No soul would be the first words that came to mind if one were to look directly into his green irises.

Professor Snape shuddered inwardly at the chilling look. He had never seen such a frightening expression on a child. The last person who could look that way had disappeared from the face of the Earth ten years ago. Lord Voldemort was long gone but why did Snape suddenly feel like he was looking right into the eyes of his long dead master…

Snape pointed a shaking hand toward the door. "Go. The Headmaster's office! Now!"

Harry walked slowly from the room his face still devoid of all emotion. Stepping into the corridor free of the confines of the potions room, Harry leaned against the wall a sigh leaving his lips. He closed his eyes breathing a deep breath. He calmed himself mentally reigning his anger in shoving it back into the dark recesses of his mind. He slammed it shut inside a vault knowing that it wouldn't take much to set him off again. Hopefully the urge to kill something wouldn't accompany the next rage mode.

'_Why does shit always happen to me?!' _He looked up and began walking forward then stopped suddenly in his trek. '_Fuck! Where in the hell is the Headmaster's office!'_


	8. Knowing and Meeting

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter either. It belongs to its creator J.K. Rowling and probably Warner Bros. too. I'm not too sure about that. This piece of literature is simply the work of a humble fan.

* * *

:Author Notes:

This will be leaning more toward alternate reality. It will have the same characters just a different spin on things. If you're not a fan or strong cursing or maybe even violence and bloodshed then there is a good chance that this story isn't for you.

* * *

"You haven't met yourself yet, but the advantage of meeting others in the meantime is that one of them may present you to yourself." Steve Brudniak, _Waking_ _Life_

**Potter**

Chapter Seven: Knowing and Meeting

By: Water Mage

Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington had been a chivalrous man before he died. Being dead for five hundred years didn't change his manners one bit. Pale as smoke, and dashing as any gentleman, he floated down the corridor with a grace that many in twentieth century didn't posses. A dashing, plumbed hat covered his long curly hair that touched the ruff of his elaborate, decorated tunic. The ruff of his tunic concealed the fact that his neck was attached to his body, only by a thin strip of flesh. Idly, as he floated down the hallway, he thought of ways to get the poltergeist, Peeves, exorcised from the school. The entity had been a thorn in his side since his materialization. He stopped suddenly, seeing a young child standing in the corridor. Confusion was written all over the young boy's face. It was none other than Harry Potter. He didn't know the boy personally, but Lady Morgana, the ghost that was tied to the Ravenclaw house, spoke a good word about him.

"You look troubled, young Potter," he said floating to Harry.

Harry looked up as Nick glided to him, quieter than any gale of wind. Harry studied Nick, finding an honest and kind face looking back at him. Nick seemed at first glance like a trustworthy man. Briefly, Harry couldn't help but wonder why he wasn't in the Here After, the Afterlife, Heaven or whatever you want to call it.

Harry met the ghost's eyes, feeling a little unnerved that he could see right though his translucent body. "Umm… Yes. Do you happen to know where Headmaster Dumbledore's office is?"

Nick smiled widely, showing all his teeth. "Why, I sure do, young one. Come right this way, and I shall escort you along."

"Thank you," said Harry, as they walked up the stairs of the dungeon to the main floor of the castle.

Instantly, as they climbed the last stair, Harry felt a rush of warm air. It was a fresh and welcome change from the ice-cold weather of the dungeons. They walked down the corridor in silence. Not an awkward silence, mind you, but a companionable silence. Harry liked it and didn't want to break it, so he kept quiet, keeping the questions he had to himself. While he was scared of what Professor Dumbledore would do, his curiosity was bursting inside. He so badly wanted to ask Nick, what it felt like to be a ghost. He wanted to know why didn't he move on and what him tied to Hogwarts? Was it where he died? So many questions. But Harry knew it would be rude and ill mannered to ask, so he kept his curiosity checked, keeping silent. Before he knew it, they rounded a corner and Nick stepped before a statue of an ugly, stone gargoyle. It was in mid pose, looking as if one wrong step and it would come to life, and slash your throat. Very friendly thing to have in a school. Yeah, right.

"Singing Sweets!" he said.

Harry's eyes widened as the gargoyle came alive, suddenly hopping aside. The wall behind it moved splitting in two. Evidently, that was the password for this James Bond-esque scene. Even though he was amazed, Harry still felt a heavy sense of dread of what's to come clench his heart. This was Dumbledore's office. He walked forward and behind the wall was a spiraling staircase that moved, like an escalator.

'_Why don't they use electricity if they imitate it so much_,' Harry thought, stepping onto the moving staircase.

He waved goodbye, nodding his head in thanks. The moving stairs took him up higher, and higher. He didn't see, but heard the echo of the wall behind him closing. It took him up probably three or two stories, before it deposited him before a short narrow hall. At the end of the hall was a tall, oak door that shined, as the light of the candlelight's attached to the wall hit it. Impressive sight, or would be, if he wasn't so scared shitless right now. Mounted on the door was a brass knocker in the shape of a crouching griffin.

Harry moved his hand, reaching forward, then stopped. He took a deep breath feeling his lungs expand and contract with the calming action. _'Be calm. Don't show fear. Dad always says, don't let them ever see you afraid.'_

Wiping his sweaty hands on his robes, Harry grabbed the knocker and rapped two times on the door. Slowly, with a slight squeak the door opened by itself. He walked through the door, stopping once he was fully inside. The door shut behind him causing him to jump slightly. Harry looked around. Dumbledore's office looked like a cross between a museum, office, and a library. Moving portraits tacked to the walls, turned their heads to stare at Harry. Books lined the walls shelved in tall bookcases. A spiraling staircase led to a second floor that was railed off. Even more books took up the upstairs wall space. On various tables were silver gadgets and small trinkets. They looked more like displayed things than items one would actually use. A sort of tribute. An enormous claw footed desk was positioned in front of a long vertical window, spotlighting all the papers and silver instruments sitting on its surface.

Harry found his gaze drawn to an area beside the desk. On a shelf was the battered, old _sorting hat_. But that wasn't the impressive thing. Before him on a tall, golden perch was a bird. The bird looked like a cross between a hawk and a falcon, but much bigger. Its feathers were sleek, shiny and the color of a roaring fire. Its glittering, golden and crimson, tail feathers were long and flowing resembling that of a peacock. The bird cocked its head at Harry studying him intently.

"What are you?" Harry whispered, taking a step forward to get a closer look. Harry walked halfway there, then felt more than heard a shift in the air currents.

He spun around coming face to face with Professor Dumbledore. The old headmaster was dressed in a purple robe with stars and crescent moons decorating the cuff of his sleeves. His silvery, white hair flowed down his back. His beard beat it in length, streaming past his waist. A pair of half moon glasses covered his face, but that didn't stop one from noticing his eyes. His eyes were a bright baby blue, that seemed to twinkle with an inner light. It gave him the appearance of always being cheerful and good-natured.

"I see you found my bird, hmm," said Dumbledore softly, moving past Harry to stand behind his desk. He turned those kind eyes to the bird. "Fawkes here is a phoenix. A truly, magnificent species they are. So, dutifully faithful and loyal."

Harry took a seat in a chair in front of the desk. Dumbledore did the same, seating himself in his own comfortable high-backed chair. He smiled openly and warmly. Harry kept his face blank. Not wanting his fear that bubbled in his stomach to show. He didn't want to go home. Not yet. He had only just got here. He silently cursed his temper and himself for being so quick to respond verbally.

"What brings you to my office, Harry?"

Harry almost asked how he knew his name, but stopped himself. Of course, Dumbledore knew him. He was the freaking Boy Who Lived. Whoop-dede-do. Instead he took a deep breath and just started from the beginning, toning down his voice to sound polite and professional. See he _could_ be friendly. "Sir, I was sent here by Professor Snape. He said something that I didn't particularly like and I got upset. I spoke out, talking back to him."

Dumbledore's eyebrows shot up an inch. That was the only surprise shown on his rosy cheeked face. "What did Professor Snape say that caused you to respond in such a manner."

Harry wanted to say '_The bastard just pissed me off too much'_ but didn't. He looked down at hands folded in his lap then up at Dumbledore. The Professor stared at him with those twinkling, blue eyes. Harry resisted the urge to look behind him for a spotlight or something. No one's eyes did that. They weren't… _normal._ Harry shook himself realizing that the Dumbledore was still waiting patiently for an answer. He had zoned out.

"He made a comment concerning my," he paused to look for the correct word. "fame."

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, I see." He sighed. "I suppose that all of this must have come as a shock to you. The sudden fame would play with anyone's emotions. I don't fault you from responding the way you did. The stress on one so young…"

Harry opened his mouth to agree with the Professor. He wanted to blurt out all the feelings this was causing inside of him. Harry wanted to express how discontenting it was to have all those adoring faces look to him in awe. They didn't know him. Didn't truly know him. Those kind eyes of Dumbledore drew him in. They wanted him to spill his secrets. They wanted him, encouraged him to tell him everything. Harry shook his head. That wasn't right. He wasn't so forthcoming with knowledge to a complete stranger. Even if the stranger seemed, no felt like someone he could do him no harm. Like a grandpa. Harry felt the tendrils of his senses reach out. The same power that could feel Quirrell soared out like a cool wind. Like invisible tentacles, they reached out over the space of the desk to touch Dumbledore. His power touched the Headmaster, roaming over him, searching for what made him give off such weird vibes. Suddenly, he looked at Dumbledore with new eyes, as if seeing for the first time.

"You're not human," he gasped.

Dumbledore wasn't surprised that Harry went off on Professor Snape, but he was at _this_ comment. His eyebrows damn near shot into his hairline and his eyes were wider than saucers. If this weren't such an odd situation, Harry would have laughed at the look at his face. It was so comical coming from his once impassive pose. Dumbledore's face transformed from surprised, then to curious in the span of seconds. A surprised smile touched his lips. Lacing his fingers together, on his desk, he looked to Harry with a newfound expression. It was an appraising one.

"You truly are your mother's son, aren't you?" The surprised smile was still on his lips.

Harry was distracted by that announcement. It took his mind from the non-human issue for a moment. A _moment_. "You knew my mother?" he asked. He still kept his previous query pushed to the front of his thoughts.

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes I knew, Lily. She also saw through my glamour."

"Glamour? What is that? And what are _you_?"

Dumbledore closed his eyes in concentration. When he opened them the twinkle disappeared and he seemed to age almost a hundred years at once. Harry gasped. It all had happened so suddenly, and if he had blinked he had would have missed the change. His eyes once a bright baby blue were now just plain blue. He no longer exuded that aura of friendliness and trust. He was just a plain, ordinary man. Well, as ordinary and normal as a wizard could get. He caught a glimpse of his ears and saw the way they ended in a delicate point. Almost triangular.

'_Okay, what the fuck just happened_?' Harry thought. What he had just witnessed was so weird that his mind was having trouble comprehending. Was this Professor Dumbledore's true form, a decrepit, old man? No, that wasn't right. Harry could sense a well of power inside of Dumbledore. The old man was powerful, but he wasn't human. So, what the hell was he? And how did he suddenly know how to sense things with this new spider sense inside him.

"You are right, Harry. I am not entirely human." He gave Harry a tired smile. "My grandfather was not a mortal being. He was of the fey. A faerie."

Harry raised his eyebrow. "Fairies are real?"

"Yes, quite so. They exist, however beyond this realm. There are many kinds of fairies. My grandfather was of the lesser fey," said Dumbledore. If he seemed uncomfortable discussing such matters with Harry it didn't show. "What you saw through was a glamour. It's fairie magic. It allows the fey to cloud minds, make things seem better or worse than they are. A minor magic, really."

Harry prevented the urge to squirm in his seat. The glamour had helped hide his true face. While Dumbledore did look old now without the glamour, he didn't look normal. His eyes had triple irises, making them bigger, taking up more white space in his eyes. His hair was glossier and shinier. He didn't want to touch it or anything, but it was just fact.

"So with the glamour you hide your…" Harry gestured to him, indicating his ears and eyes.

Dumbledore nodded. A sad smile tugged at his lips. "Yes. Precisely so. It's an old prejudice among the wizarding realm that the fey have no soul and lack personal responsibilities. Using glamour magic, I am able to hide my uniqueness. I hope that like Lily, you will keep my secret. No one knows my heritage, and I would like to keep it that way."

Harry was new to the realm of magic and he hadn't time to form such prejudices. So finding this information out didn't change his opinion of Dumbledore. He didn't trust him before and he still didn't now. The glamour only added to his list on why not to trust the old man. Dumbledore had used some sort of mind trick with his eyes, trying to draw his feelings and secrets out. Which didn't put the man too high up in his book. Sill however, according to books, Dumbledore was a powerful wizard, and having an ally in him wouldn't be bad. Especially, considering that he now had this information to use against him. A mental smile formed on Harry's face. There was no way that Dumbledore would treat him ill or try to bespell him with this eyes now or in the future… Harry knew his secret.

Harry smiled a real smile. "I won't tell anyone, sir."

The air seemed to shimmer, and a very visible ripple surrounded around Dumbledore. Harry blinked and when he looked again, Dumbledore appeared just as he originally did. He had placed the glamour back on. Harry looked him in the eyes but that twinkle that just demanded and oozed sincerity and trust was gone. He wasn't using his mind tricks or whatever fairie magic he had on Harry. If Harry concentrated he could see the face of Dumbledore blur. He could see through the glamour if he truly tried.

"Splendid," said Dumbledore, clapping his hands together with an anxious grin. "I'm afraid I have kept you here long enough. You are free to leave. No punishment will be given. Professor Snape will understand that you only spoke out because of stress."

"Thank you, sir," replied Harry gratefully. He stood up and took his leave from the room.

Harry checked his watch and according to his schedule he had a free period. Briefly, Harry paused stopping in mid stride on the way to the Ravenclaw common room. He wondered if he should go to the dungeon to retrieve his stuff. But that would mean seeing Snape and he didn't want to do that. He could only hope that Kevin or Terry thought about him and took his things with them. Harry could only guess that they were in the common room waiting for him. Walking around this school alone made him paranoid. It took willpower not to draw a knife out and throw at moving things in the shadows. Of course the moving forms would be suits of armor or the occasionally statue that felt the need to move location. It would take him a few weeks to get used to the castle before he stopped jumping at every random noise that came from places unseen. Harry turned a corner and let out a muffled curse as he collided with another person.

Harry fell backwards throwing out his arms so that he could control the fall. He had once got jumped in a parking lot. His head had collided painfully with the pavement, taking off a layer of skin from his face and leaving him with a concussion. Needless to say, Harry never wanted to repeat that accident again. Ever. Quickly, he got to his feet. A foot in front of him, sitting on his rear, was Draco Malfoy. Harry raised his eyebrow about to say some scathing remark but kept it down. He had told himself yesterday that he would make a friend out of Draco. You know the saying, _Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer_ and all that. What better way to keep an eye on the kid than to have him be a friend? Harry would be his friend but he would never forget. He could forgive but he would never forget.

"Let me give you a hand," said Harry, holding out his hand to the blond.

Draco looked at the offered hand suspiciously. But the embarrassment of looking like an ass sitting on the floor won out. He took Harry's hand and was hefted to his feet. Dusting off his robes he bent over to retrieve his shoulder bag that housed his books and supplies.

"Thanks," said Draco gruffly, not meeting Harry's eyes.

Harry shrugged. "No problem. I should have been looking where I was going." A silence descended on them. Harry racked his brain for a topic to talk about that would fill the silence. "You ended up getting in Slytherin like you wanted." Harry almost rolled his eyes at how dumb he sounded.

He smiled. Draco actually smiled an honest and semi open smile. "I hoped I would. Hey, at least you didn't get stuck in Gryffindor."

Harry ignored the insult. It was a backhanded remark about the house his parents were once in. He took a deep breath still trying to look friendly. Oh yeah, he was trying real hard here to make a friend. Still however, despite the effort. He was still throwed off by Draco's smile. His teeth were really white. Either he brushed really well or he had porcelain veneers. Porcelain veneers were the thin coverings that rich actors put over their teeth now a day, that made them white and they stayed white. Really cool looking and expensive as hell.

"Do you do teeth commercials?" Harry blurted out unable to stop himself.

Draco lost his smile as confusion settled over his features. "Come again? What are you talking about?"

Harry was glad at that moment that Draco was a pureblood and didn't know what he was talking about. He really had to get his mouth under control. He was always talking before his brain caught up with his mouth. Harry smiled sheepishly and gave Draco a never-mind look.

"I've got to go, I'll see you later, Potter," said Draco slowly, regaining that superior look with each word he spoke. He tilted his head high, regally again, and his full on confidence mode was back. His confusion at Harry's friendly mannerisms were gone, replaced by that Malfoy charm that Harry, oh so loved.

Harry touched Draco's shoulder as he moved past him. "Harry, Draco. You can call me Harry."

Draco stopped, going still. He gazed into Harry's eyes. Gray stared into green. Neither blinked during this staring contest. Harry didn't have a problem with the stare. Hell, he could do it all day. He knew what Draco was doing. He was judging his honesty by gaze alone. Seeing if he had any ulterior motives for doing what he was doing. Harry knew this little game well. He had played with the best of them. His face was blank. Erased of all emotion. The perfect game face. If he had ever learned how to play poker he would be the master at it.

Draco finally nodded. The superiority chip that he had once worn on his shoulder was gone. His face softened a little but the confusion was still swimming in his eyes. He gave Harry one more lingering look then after finding whatever he found there, he replied, "Alright then, Harry. See you around."

Harry watched the confused boy walk away. It wasn't a surprise that he was so confused. Yesterday, Draco thought he and Harry would be mortal enemies, and now here he was acting like a friend. Harry continued his journey, thinking mentally of the way to the common room. He ended up walking back to the familiar entrance to the dungeons, and then he retraced his steps from the dungeons to the common room. Finally, it had to be fifteen minutes later when Harry found the entrance to the common room. He stood before the long mirror fixed into the stone wall.

"Knowledge is power," he said.

The mirror's glass surface rippled, as if it was water and stone had been thrown into it. Harry stared at it for moment thinking how so much like the waves of the ocean. He stepped through the mirror, not feeling anything but a cool wind touch him, as he came out the other side. Harry stopped in his place, gazing about the room. No one in the room moved. This was basically a free thirty-minute period where students rested, so that meant most of the Ravenclaws were in the common room. The amount of people didn't make Harry stop-no that wasn't it. What made him stop was that they all were staring at him. As soon as he stepped into the room, heads turned, conversations stopped, and the room froze. There was no whispering and, surprise, surprise, no pointing. Harry blinked and was about to ask what the hell was going on, but stopped. As the thought flashed through his head a pretty girl with long, thick black hair stood up and began clapping. Then like some kind of cheesy, teen movie the others followed her example clapping so hard that he was sure their hands would bruise. Cheering and yelling came from the mouths of some of the older boys. Harry's cheeks flushed, as all those smiling, clapping faces looked to him.

Kevin and Terry broke free from the crowd, joining Harry near the portal. They wore wide, matching grins. Harry was sure if that they grinned any wider their faces would split.

"What is going on?" Harry asked.

Terry smiled. "They found out you went head to head with Snape, mate."

Harry blushed as a "_Way to go, Potter!" _floated through the air.

Kevin clapped him on the back in a good-natured sort of way. "As you can see, no one really liked the bastard," half laughed Kevin. His Scottish accent came through thick and very pronounced. The next Harry knew the crowd of Ravenclaws had formed around them. They were grinning and giving Harry congratulations and clapping on the back, smiles on their faces the whole time.

* * *

The time that they had for free period didn't last too long. Thirty minutes later, Harry, Terry, Kevin, and their fellow Ravenclaw first years were traipsing down the grounds. The grounds of Hogwarts was a sea of green grass holding within its arms a great lake, and bordering its east side was an ongoing forest of darkness. Harry kept his eyes on the line of twisting, dark limbs of the Forbidden Forest. A tingle of unease made its way down his spine, as he gazed at the front line of trees. Harry was a gut person and his gut was telling to stay the hell away from the damn forest. And that was all the warning he needed.

Rising like white sentinels with many glass windows were the greenhouses. The four greenhouses stood in a neat column one behind the other, their windows sparkling and their walls freshly coated with white paint. Greenhouse one, their destination, was the first in line. Filing into the house along with the Ravenclaws, were the Gryffindors. While the Ravenclaws chatted amongst them selves at an acceptable level, the Gryffindors were loud and a roaring bunch. A perfect contrast. Harry took a seat at a wooden table with his two friends, sitting on either side of him. Harry looked around the room. The windows above them let sunlight shine down upon the many plants dotting the room. It was like being inside a mini, low-budget rainforest. Only no lions, or tigers, or crazy people with long, pointed spears.

Harry eyed all the green ferna and fauna, surrounding him. '_When they decide to go for a theme in this school, they don't fuck around.'_

Harry glanced down at his watch. It was all silver and the diamonds set around the face glittered in the stray beams of light. The watch had been a Christmas gift from his father last year. While it was a bit showy and hella expensive it did the job, which was tell time. Precisely, as the clock struck two thirty, Professor Sprout entered from a side door that he hadn't noticed. Mostly because it had been hidden by a grouping of plants. Sprout was a short witch, with mousy brown hair covered by a long pointed hat. Her robes were all black, covered by one of those long aprons that Chemists wore in labs.

"God, I'm taller than her," muttered Terry, under his breath.

Kevin kicked him under the table. "Its not like she's a munchkin, Terry."

Harry snorted at the Wizard of Oz reference. "Might as well be."

Professor Sprout was 4' and what she lacked in height she made up in tough attitude. Harry could tell instantly that she was the kind of person that had been short all their life, and had no choice but to toughen up. When you're the smallest kid on the playground, you had no other options but to be tough or be picked on. Harry could tell because he was only 4'1 and he knew how it felt to be small.

"Hello, children," began Professor Sprout, gracing them with a full smile. "Herbology is not just any class. It's a complex and get down and dirty class. You might think that all magic is just wand waving and incantations, but there is more. Think behind the scenes. All the potions and magical healing substances get most of their ingredients from the Earth around us. That's right, plants and flowers. The plants and flowers in this room can be augmented to produce powerful, effective healing potions."

Harry listened, fully getting swept away by her words. His eye made the briefest of twitches before he regained control. Basically, what she was telling them that for the rest of the year they were gardeners. Joy. Buuut the thought of having the knowledge of healing plants and their properties overrode his initial feelings of distaste. That could come in handy, seeing as how many times he had been hurt throughout his life.

Professor Sprout wiped her hands on her apron and from a pocket she pulled out a wand. "_Accio!"_

A chalkboard wheeled out from behind a pair of twin, plotted trees. Notes and drawings of flowers and leaves were already covering its surface. Professor Sprout positioned the board in middle of the room, so they all could see easily.

"Now please take out your quills and parchment, so you can take notes."

Harry muttered a "Yeah right" at that. From his shoulder bag he pulled out a couple of black pilot pens and a spiral notebook. He would do the homework or whatever classwork he had on parchment, but for notes he would use what he was used to. Terry looked at the parchment and quill in his hand then to Harry's paper and pens. He pouted and Harry grinned, as he handed him a pen and paper. Five minutes later, Kevin's hand started to cramp from writing so delicately with the quill. Rolling his eyes, he took the pen and paper handed to him. The scrabbling of quills and the ongoing voice of Professor Sprout were the only voices in the room. Her light voice filled the silence, lessening the aggravating sound of the _scratch, scratch_ sounds of rapid, writing quills.

Professor Sprout paused in the middle of her lecture. "Since we are on the subject, who can tell me what are the physical characteristics of a Flower of the Dragon's Breath."

Harry was the first to have to his hand in the air, along with three other Ravenclaws. Only one Gryffindor, Hermione, had her hand up. Professor Sprout nodded her head to Harry, giving him the go ahead to say his answer. He nodded. "The Flower of the Dragon's Breath is very bright red at the base of its petals, then goes from orange, to red, ending with yellow."

"Very good," smiled Sprout. "Five points to Ravenclaw. Can you tell me how the flower is made?"

Harry opened his mouth to answer then closed it. A frown appeared on his face as he raked his brain for an answer. He could remember reading the information, but he had sped read a good chunk of his books, and most of the details were lost to him.

Sprout nodded to Hermione, who was the only with her hand in the air. The bushy haired girl that Harry had met the night of the Sorting Ceremony spoke with a quiet confidence. Her voice was quiet but it resonated through the room with a sure tone. "The Flower of the Dragon's Breath appears only on holy ground, when the Moon, Sun, Earth, the North Star, and Haley's Comet all align on the night of the Northern Lights."

"Five points to Gryffindor," said Professor Sprout, impressed. "The Celestial Symphony is truly a glorious night. You all should consider yourselves lucky that this once in millennia event will occur in your lifetime."

Harry turned from Professor Sprout, looking toward the other side of the room. He met the eyes of Hermione and the girl gave him a challenging smirk and a raised eyebrow. Harry grinned unable to help it. It wasn't a normal happy grin. This grin was an answering grin of acceptance. Almost predatory. Hermione nodded. Harry turned back to Professor Sprout, picking up his pen he resumed his note taking.

From his peripheral vision, Harry caught sight of Hermione writing to catch up also. To someone who wasn't looking carefully it may have looked like Hermione and Harry was giving each other love looks. But that was so not the case. When Harry met Hermione's eye, a silent challenge had been issued. As far as they were concerned they were the smartest in their year, and that mattered to them. It just came down as to who was smarter. Hermione wanted to contest their knowledge. Harry, couldn't let the chance to wipe the smirk off her face go, so he had accepted. Hermione had made it clear in their stare that she thought she would take this. There was one thing she didn't know about Harry… He does not lose. By the end of grade term they would see who would win this friendly challenge. Harry smiled. He always loved a challenge.

* * *

"Who you writing to, Harry?" asked Kevin.

Harry looked up from the notebook in his lap. "My dad."

It was night and the moon and stars glittered in the sky outside. The boys sat underneath a window in the common room, occupying a table that was covered with an old-fashioned chess set. Both boys were focused intently on the game.

Kevin moved a knight vertically one space, then looked out of the window. "I wonder how my pop is doing?"

Terry looked at him interested. "You know, we haven't really talked about our families. Weird, eh?"

Kevin laughed. His laugh caused his lilac eyes to seemingly shine. It transformed his whole face, making him seem younger somehow. "Yeah, that is kind of odd. I usually don't click this well with most people, but you two are really easy to get along with. There is nothing to tell about my family. My mam and pop live in Scotland. They're both magic and our whole family is pureblood, but I grew up around muggles, since we live close to so many. My mam is really funny, but if you cross her she turns meaner than a dragon. Dad is very mellow but he is really strict about tradition, and heritage and all that." Kevin waved his hand around, as if his Dad's strictness wasn't a new topic.

Terry shrugged, touching a hand to finger his cross earring. Harry had noticed this gesture throughout the day. Touching the cross was a habit Terry often did when attention was focused on him. "Well, I don't know my Dad. He's not around and never has been. It's just me, mom, and Corey, that's my older brother. We live in London and Mom works for the Ministry of Magic with the Department of Unlawful Paranormal Events. She's a psychic. Her job is to police the paranormal, so muggles don't catch wind. She's always working so it's just really Corey, who takes care of me."

Harry pointed to the cross. "Is that real silver?"

Terry shook his head, still touching the earring. "Naw. I'm allergic to real silver. This is sterling steel. I'm Catholic and I always wear a cross. Either this earring or my crucifix necklace, which is in my suitcase."

"I've never been to church," said Kevin in a quiet voice. His blond hair fell hiding his eyes, shielding Harry from reading what the other boy was thinking. "We're not a very religious family."

Harry didn't like the silence that descended. It was too awkward. It took two tries before he finally had a reply. "My father and I only go to church occasionally. So don't feel left out," assured Harry.

"You've only mentioned you're father, Harry," said Terry, sensing too that the subject needed to change. "Is he not married?"

Harry snorted. "Dad, married? I could never see Dad married. It's always been just him and me, always. He owns a law firm in London." Of course Harry left out that the law firm represents every bad guy in the United Kingdom. It didn't matter what crime they committed; the firm always got them acquitted of charges. Always. "Dad is half Japanese, half white. So I got some flack growing up from other kids, but Dad is the best."

Kevin nodded. "So he's you're adoptive father, right? I remember reading an article about you being adopted."

"How did you know--" Harry shook his head, rolling his eyes. "Of course, _Boy Who Lived_. Got to get used to that. Yeah, I'm adopted."

Terry cocked his head, like an animal would do when curious. "You didn't know who you were, did you?"

Harry shook his head. It took him fifteen minutes to explain that he never knew his true origins and how he found out. By the time he was finished a Prefect was calling for lights out and everyone was shooed to their dormitories. Harry put the finishing touches on the letter to his father. Picking it up he looked it over, making sure that he didn't miss anything.

__

Dear Dad,

It's been a weird first day around here. I won't bore you _  
_with the exact details. Alright, I can see you already smirking. I only got in _  
_a little, teeny, weeny trouble. I swear. It wasn't even my fault anyway! The _  
_Potions Master… Yeah, potions… I know. Odd. Anyway, he was baiting me! _  
_It was like I was on some hidden game show and he was the host. I should _  
_have kicked him in the nuts, but I threatened him… I know, I know. I _  
_shouldn't have did that. I'm sorry. I _would_ apologize to him, but I think he _  
_hates me. Like, literally. _  
_I made some friends, too. Their names are Kevin and Terry. I can_  
_just tell they don't have some secret agenda. They're good guys. I know…_  
_I'm just being paranoid. But can you blame me. _  
_There is something else, though. You know how I always had a_  
_second sense about things. Like that time, Lady Helen tried to date you…_  
_I was the only one who could tell that she wasn't… right. You remember?_  
_Well, ever since I've been here that _sense_ has gotten stronger. I don't know_  
w_hat it _is_ exactly, but I can tell it's a part of me. There is a teacher, Professor _  
_Quirrell. He gives off badness, Dad. If you looked up evil in the dictionary_  
_a 5 by 5 glossy-picture of Quirrell would be there. _  
_I don't know what exactly he is, but I can tell he's not human. No joke._  
_He hasn't hurt me, but I think that he knows that I know he's bad news. Now,_  
_before you go all Punisher on me, he hasn't done anything. Maybe this spidey_  
_sense is crack, and I'm just imagining things, but the first sign of real trouble_  
_I will tell you. I promise to be careful and safe. I love you.

_Your son,  
Harry_

P.S.--Tell Dylan and Todd that I haven't forgotten. I'm waking up early  
tomorrow, so I can practice.

Harry looked the letter over and once satisfied he nodded, folded it up and slipped it into his pocket. He blew out the candle sitting on the windowsill. He looked at it. Really looked at it. The candle had been burning for hours but there didn't seem to be any melting wax.

He shook his head. _'This is really going to take some getting use to. Physics is something I know, but Metaphysics are a bitch.'_

Waving at Wesley, the Prefect, Harry wandered up the spiraling staircase to the First Year dorms. His fellow dorm mates were in various states of undress, each preparing for bed. Harry followed their lead and stripped to just his boxers, then thinking it over he put on a pair of pajama pants. None of his other dorm mates seemed to have noticed his sheathed shortsword above the headrest of his bed. That was only because he had kept his hangings drawn all day. He didn't want to scare them. He had better tell them soon though. One of them could come up dead if they tried to suddenly wake him up. Harry slipped into bed, tucking the comforter around him, he let out a deep sigh.

_'I think that I could really get used to this'_, Harry thought letting out a sigh of content.

He felt serene for this one moment of tranquility.He closed his eyes succumbing to the darkness behind his eyelids. Suddenly, a flash of red eyes appeared in his mind eye. They glowed red, hot, accusing. Harry snapped awake, bolting up in bed. Blindly, he reached for the pair of knives sitting in the drawer of his nightstand. It was hard to see without his contacts, but he managed. Sometimes you had to rely on other senses besides eyesight. His hands gripped the smooth grips of the knives. The sharpened blades glittered in the moonlight, as Harry took them from their place. He put them under his pillow and lied back down. His heart was thudding in his throat, and his hands gripped the edge of the comforter in a white knuckled grip. Sightlessly, Harry stared at the ceiling as fear held him in a death grip. Every little creak and noise the old castle made was suddenly so loud and clear. Some might call him paranoid, but Harry had been through more shit than any other kid. He moved his hand underneath his pillow to grip the blade. He usually didn't sleep with weapons under his pillow. There was a chance he could hurt himself in his sleep if he wasn't careful. However, the knowledge of the sword above him and knives so near made him feel better.

'_Just in case…'  
__  


* * *

_Thanks you so much everybody for the reviews. I do really appreciate them. Next chapter will be the Halloween chapter.

Someone had a question about, where did I come up with an idea for this story. I read an R version of Peter Pan once, and I had a thought of what it would be like for Harry Potter to be rated R. Then after months of planning and thinking I decided to write, _Potter_.


	9. In the Darkness is the Light

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter either. It belongs to its creator J.K. Rowling and probably Warner Bros. too. I'm not too sure about that. This piece of literature is simply the work of a humble fan.

* * *

:Author Notes:

This will be leaning more toward alternate reality. It will have the same characters just a different spin on things. If you're not a fan or strong cursing or maybe even violence and bloodshed then there is a good chance that this story isn't for you.

* * *

"Those who fear the darkness have never seen what the light can do." Magic, _The Gathering_

-

**Potter**

Chapter Eight: In the Darkness is the Light

By: Water Mage

-

Harry was small in this dream. Smaller than he was now. He was eight years old and it was the day after his eight birthday. Instead of being in school like most kids his age, at this time of day. Harry was tied up in a dark room, hands and feet bound to the four corners of a rank smelling mattress. The wallpaper covering the walls was old and peeling in places. Sweat dribbled down the young Harry's brow like tiny rivulets. Harry licked his upper lip, tongue wiping away the sweat that collected at the corner. With narrowed eyes, Harry scanned the room. There was nothing in it. No windows. No bathrooms. Only one door that led out to the corridor and a surveillance camera nailed cattycornered.

Without so much as a squeak the door opened. In walked a beautiful woman. She would have been unearthly beautiful, but the sneer fixed unto her face marred her good looks. A tight red dress covered her model-esque body. Her breasts looked as if they were about to pop out from the dress any moment, it was that tight. Flicking back her curly, blond hair, she walked toward Harry hips swinging. An odd smile covered her face. Inwardly, Harry shivered. The smile was directed at him. And he didn't like it at all.

"Hello, Harry," she said, wearing that chilling smile. Her voice held the lilting tone of a French accent. It was light and made her seem almost… nice. But Harry wasn't fooled.

Harry was silent. His lips thinned in a line and his eyes narrowed only the slightest bit. This was the only emotion he let show on his face. The woman, Ravissante Tueur, was as beautiful as she was deadly. Right on, she had let Harry know that her name Ravissante Tueur, Lovely Killer, was not just a cool nickname.

Ravissante smiled at Harry's stone cold defense. "You are such an… amusing child." She chuckled at Harry's unmoving expression. She sat down on the bed, a playful pout fixed unto her face. "Aww, don't be like that, Harry. You haven't even begun to feel the pain," Ravissante traced a long nailed finger across his neck. "that I can give you. You father better pay up the ransom or things will get real _painful_ in here."

Harry blinked away a tear. Without even thinking about it, he spoke without realizing. "My father won't give you nothing. You're crazy."

Something flickered in her eyes, and the next thing Harry knew his throat was held in a painful hold. Ravissante Tueur held his throat in a chokehold, cutting off air supply. Strangled sounds left his mouth, as Harry's lungs burned, and eyes watered as tears trailed down his face. Pleadingly, he looked to Ravissante, vision blurring and head swimming, as white spots appeared behind his eyelids. The blond woman's face was a mask of coldness as her hand ever so slowly tightened around his throat. Then without warning she let go. Great gasps were then heard in the room, as Harry's lungs worked in overtime to recollect air. Suddenly, Ravissante moved quicker than humanly possible. Harry could only blink, watching as her arm sailed through the air. Her dark red nails slashed his throat in a smooth arc. A scream of pain ripped from his mouth, as blood surged forward from the cut.

Instantly, the door opened and a tall man rushed in. He was pale, and his dark hair made his pale blue eyes stand out sharply. Grabbing Ravissante by the hair, he yanked her quickly away from Harry. He glared at her angrily as he cursed her darkly in Spanish.

"Ravissante, what do you think you are doing!" he snapped. "The boss said not to harm him!"

Ravissante, if she was sorry certainly didn't show it. She just gracefully got to her feet, smoothing down her dress. "Alecto, do not patronize me. You might be the boss's boy toy, but you are not in charge of me." Her eyes then flashed darkly. "I would take to remember that fact, _Alecto._" His name came out more like a purr. Her tongue rolled each syllable with a caress.

Alecto sneered at her. "While you were in here _playing_, Michelangelo says that the cameras caught someone sneaking onto the grounds. A guard on the East Side was found knocked out."

"My father comes," Harry said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

The wound on his throat hadn't stopped bleeding, but the blood flow was slowing down. The collar of his polo shirt was drenched with spilled blood. With the amount of blood collected on the shirt and drying on Harry's throat, one would think the wound was fatal. It wasn't however. Ravissante was too good for that. There were numerous ways to cut a person's throat without killing them. It would be painful but it wouldn't be life threatening.

"I suppose that Michelangelo wants us to check it out," she stated. "I am a trained assassin. Michelangelo needs to learn that my resume doesn't say grunt work."

Alecto sighed. "Ravissante, control yourself. If you want to get paid, I suggest doing exactly what Michelangelo tells you. If he says jump, you better fucking say, how high."

"Whatever," muttered Ravissante, leaving the room without so much as backward glance.

Alecto looked down to Harry and the boy almost saw a flash of regret in his eyes. It was gone quicker than it appeared, replaced by the blank mask of coldness that permanently was fixed on his face. Stoic, Alecto gazed down at Harry for another brief moment. Then with precision he spun on his heel leaving the room. The door closed with a soft click.

Then and only then, did Harry let the tears in his eyes to flow. He couldn't hold it in anymore. All of it that he had been holding back behind a wall of cool flooded forward like a river. A choked sob left his bruised throat as the events of the day caught up to him. Earlier in the morning, the limo that took him to school was hijacked. These people weren't amateurs. Anyone with half a brain could tell that. They were trained killers. Professionals. They didn't kill people for fun. They were trained and did it for money. A real enterprising career. These people wanted what all people wanted. Money. Harry was to be ransomed to his father. These people weren't stupid, however. They knew exactly what the elder McKnight really did for a living, and they had all bases covered. The place they were in currently, their base, was strategically located outside any of the Clans' territories. Meaning that no one in the Empire could trace their location. Smart. Very, very, smart.

Harry stilled as a sound outside the door reached his ears. He closed his eyes and prayed to the heavens that Ravissante was not on the other side. The doorknob turned and Harry's prayers came faster, as his heart jumped, pulse racing quicker in time with his panic. With his heart thudding in his throat, he stared at the slowly opening door that seemed to be going in extra slow motion, as if time was out on a break. A black clothed figure entered the room, dressed head to foot in black.

"Daddy!" Harry said, recognizing his father, despite the cloth covering half his face, ninja style.

Killian yanked off the cloth. Instantly he was at Harry's side slicing at the bonds holding him with a dagger. Once the bonds were cut, Harry was in his fathers arms held in his safe embrace. "Kiddo are you alright?"

Harry nodded. Killian's eyes traveled down to the cut on Harry's neck that looked more like a ragged gash. His green eyes went cold, as he ripped off a strip of cloth from his sleeve, holding it to Harry's throat. A sword was strapped to Killian's back, and running down each arm was throwing stars. Covering his chest and midsection was a Kevlar vest. Bulletproof. In shoulder holsters were two large stainless steel guns, Smith and Wesson 1911 pistols. These were his father's go get'em weapons. If Killian was armed with these guns, all hell was going to break loose.

"Overkill, much?" Harry chuckled, his voice raspy. His joke failed to lighten the mood for Killian seemed to grow even angrier at how bad Harry's voice sounded.

Killian grabbed Harry's hand, helping him off the bed. "Come, on. We're getting out of here."

Stealthily, the duo traveled down the hallway. They avoided nearing footsteps or approaching voices whenever they could. Two low whistles from behind made them spin around in alarm. A man, eyes rolling into his head, fell to the ground, dead. Blood oozed from two bullet holes in his back. Three feet behind the man were two black clothed figures. By their stances, Harry recognized them immediately. The Angels of Death had joined the soirée. Todd and Dylan walked up to them. Their footsteps made no noise against the wood paneled floor. They were the perfect bodyguards and assassins.

"Is the young master alright, sir?" asked Todd. Half of his face was covered like Killian's.

Killian sighed. "He will be." He turned to Dylan. "Give him your gun."

"Sir?"

"Give him your gun? The Browning 9mm. It has the smallest grip," Killian said, while keeping his eyes focused on the shadows ahead of them.

Todd made a 'hurry up' sound. "Come on, Dyl'. He can handle it, you know it. The young master can shoot."

Todd handed Harry the gun. Harry took the gun and with his small hands, he popped the clip out making sure that it was loaded. Quickly, with a practiced ease he popped it back in, then put a round in the chamber so it was ready for shooting. The saftey went on with a click. Just in case. Harry looked to his father and the man nodded. Harry could read the relief in his eyes. His father wanted him to be safe if they should go down. As one they moved down the hall, dead bodies cluttered their path. Suddenly, a hand grabbed him around his arm. Instinctively, he twisted tugging the arm off. Then without thinking his gun was out, safety off, and firing. Ravissante fell to the ground blood spraying, and body shaking from the rounds of hot lead entering her flesh. Harry's brain went bye bye, and any coherent thought refused to be formed. He went into a place where emotions had no meaning and only the sweet nothingness existed. Only thing he knew was that Ravissante Tueur had to die. No amount of pain would be good enough except for death. Blood pooled around her fallen body, but that was not enough. Still Harry fired into her. His mind refused to register that she was already dead after the second shot.

"Harry?" a voice broke through his reverie. Still he kept squeezing the trigger. Not even realizing that the gun had clicked empty long ago. He was doing nothing more than dry firing into her torn and dead body. "Harry, stop! She's dead. She's dead."

Killian grabbed the gun, but Harry jerked back, eyes wild. He felt trapped. His mind was a jumble of thoughts. Nothing made sense. Nothing except Ravissante Tueur dying. That was the only thing that had made any kind of sense. Her pain. Her hurt. That had made sense. That was reality. Killian grabbed Harry, forcing his eyes to meet his own lighter, green eyes.

"Kiddo, look at me." He tilted Harry's chin up. "Look at me. She is dead. She cannot hurt you anymore. Its over."

Harry was suddenly enveloped in Killian's arms. "I wanted her to hurt, Daddy." Tears fell down his cheeks. "I wanted her to die."

Killian nodded. "I know." He took the gun carefully from Harry's hands. "Lets go."

The blissful fog of the dream started to lift and Harry began to realize that he was in fact dreaming. Reliving this memory was nothing more than a dream. Harry could feel himself start to awaken. Then Harry was suddenly clutched by something. Something… powerful. He was trapped in this dream. The walls faded. His father and bodyguards disappeared. Harry focused his vision and terror filled him for the first time.

Darkness. A black, never-ending darkness surrounded him on all sides. It was above him, beside him, beneath him. Trying to smother him in its bottomless depths. An overwhelming urge from inside warned him to run, but Harry had nowhere to run. The darkness was everywhere. He was in a sea of darkness. And he was drowning. It filled his throat, choking him in power. A power so old and ancient that it was unnatural. This power shouldn't exist. Shouldn't be in the world of man. It was something evil. An old evil. I must find a way to escape, Harry thought.

'_You escaped me once. Never again.'_ A voice whispered into his head, simultaneously coming from the nothingness.

Harry felt a wave of fear and despair flood over him, filling his heart. It was _everywhere._ He could feel it inside his bones. In his nose. He could practically taste it on his tongue. He wasn't escaping. Whatever had him was powerful and it wasn't letting go. He couldn't fight this thing. Whatever fancy new power he did pick up alluded him at the moment. Nothing could stop this. He couldn't hit it. Couldn't shoot it. Nothing was going to stop it.

Another wave of terror hit him, flooding him. Harry wanted to tear his brain out. It throbbed so bad, almost threatening to explode from his skull. This attack on his psyche could only last so much before he just completely gave in.

'_Surrender,'_ the voice again whispered.

'_NO_!' A strong, deep voice boomed out from nowhere.

At the sound of the voice, Harry was suddenly filled with a new emotion. Courage. It renewed his body, chasing away the dark thoughts and foreign emotions filling his body. A light appeared around Harry. If he were looking in a mirror, he would have seen that his eyes were glowing a startling emerald green from edge to edge. Another thing was that his lightning bolt scar was glowing also. A dazzling gold, so bright that it began to chase back the darkness.

'_YOU CANNOT HAVE HIM! HE IS UNDER MY PROTECTION! GO BACK TO THE DARKNESS!'_

The darkness at the sound of the disembodied voice and the light from Harry started to recede. With a new wave of energy giving him strength, Harry willed himself to awake. Suddenly, his eyes snapped open and he bolted up in his bed. His breath came in great gasps as he looked around him. The familiar sight of his dorm comforted him. He was safe. Relief and thankfulness washed over him. He was still at Hogwarts. Harry felt a bitter taste fill his mouth. Touching a finger to his tongue he realized that he had bit it, while in the throes of his nightmare or whatever the hell it was. He clutched his heart through the thin material of his shirt. It was still beating rapidly, but it was slowly yet surely slowing down to its normal rhythm and pace. Through the window, the first rays of dawn appeared. Harry grabbed his glasses from the bedside nightstand then slipped them onto his face. Frowning, he looked down at his hand. He held his hand out palm flat. He realized that he was shaking. Hell, his whole body was shaking. Not from the cold. No, that wasn't it. The dream may have been over, but he was scared fucking straight. Who wouldn't be? If Harry was a fairytale believing kind of kid, he would swear that he just had a visit from the bogeyman.

The fear was still there but it was receding with each waking moment. As long as there was light the dark would be beat back. Harry wasn't going to get anymore sleep today before classes started. That was a given. He grabbed his shortsword from his bedpost, where it was mounted with a spell. Slipping on a pair of Nikes, he exited his dorm room. No one was in the common room. Hell, no one in his or her right mind would be up at this time of day. With Deathdealer secure in his grip, Harry took the remembered route to the Great Hall. He didn't go inside, however; he went outside to the grounds. He walked to the lake, liking how calming the scenery was. Harry took a calming breath, trying to slip into the trance like state he went into when doing katas.

'_Come on, McKnight,'_ he told himself. It was taking longer than normal to slip into the trance. Of course it was going to take longer than usual. So much was on his mind. His plate was so full recently. He hoped that no one else decided to make it _pick on Harry day_.

'_Focus'_

With that one word he let out all his breath, slowly. The emotions on his face washed away, leaving nothing but a face full of calm. Harry's sword was pulled from his sheath, effortlessly. Gracefully, Harry went into a fighting stance. In his mind eye he could see them. Invisible, multiple opponents were all around him. As one they attacked and then the dance began. Harry was quite a sight to watch. With the sun rising in the background, throwing oblong shapes of sunshine on the lake's surface, Harry was ethereal. His sword became an extension of his arm. They were one. He flowed with his sword and the same with it. The worries and fear was pushed back in his mind as Harry went further into his routine. Katas always had a way of calming him. Always. He felt like he would just drift away from this Earth not returning till he finished. The sun had long finished its rise into the sky by the time Harry finished.

'_That feels better.'_ Harry thought, wiping the sweat from his arms and brow.

He did indeed feel better. Performing katas always had a way of balancing him, whenever he was most troubled. Harry bent over picking up his scabbard off the ground. Harry looked down at his watch and swore. He only had a ten minutes to get back to his dorm before everyone else awoke. He was in no mood at all to explain where he had been or what he had been doing. Some other time maybe, but not today.

* * *

Harry sat with Terry and Kevin in the Great Hall an hour and a half later. The constant sound of chattering kids kept the hall at a dull murmur, never quite too loud and never silent. Harry ate his breakfast silently, only adding input to the conversation now and then. Terry and Kevin wondered what was wrong but didn't outright ask. Harry for the most part was thankful for that. All the Ravenclaws were smart to know when to push and when not to. Suddenly, there was a flutter of wings and then in a flock, owls flew in through a high open window. Kids opened their arms as letters were dropped into their waiting hands. Parcels and packages were dropped into laps. Harry jumped when an owl dropped a rolled up newspaper in front of Kevin's plate.

Kevin unrolled the newspaper and Harry, out of his peripheral vision, saw the words the_ Daily Prophet_ scrolled across the top. "Well I'll be damned!" Kevin muttered softly.

"What happened?" asked Terry, slopping on a lot of jam onto his toast.

Kevin shook his head. "Can you believe that Gringotts was robbed."

"Holy shit!" exclaimed Terry, bits of toast flying out from his mouth.

A couple of heads on the Ravenclaw table turned. Terry blushed a little and just shrugged muttering a barely heard apology. They went back to what they were doing dismissing the event. Harry leaned forward, so he could see the article better. There on the front page was a moving picture. A pissed off goblin was waving his arms before a patient wizard, holding a quill and parchment.

Harry cocked his eyebrow. "I thought that with the goblins there, it was the safest place to have your money. At least that is what I was told."

Terry nodded. "It is. Well… was."

Kevin turned the page, reading further along in the article. "It says that nothing was stolen. I'm guessing whoever did it, was looking for something specific. When they didn't find it they bolted."

Harry didn't really care about Gringotts getting robbed. He wasn't some amateur sleuth out to solve the case. He just wanted to eat breakfast, finish the day out, and try to get a goodnight sleep tonight. A bank getting robbed did not fit into his itinerary.

"Hey look at this," said Kevin. He pointed to another article in the _Daily Prophet_. It read:

****

Vampire Murderer Strikes Again

_  
_An unidentified witch, was found dead today outside Merlin's Gate Park._  
_Her body was found torn and mutilated early this morning by a hiking wizard._  
_The arteries of her neck were ripped open, giving the magic law enforcement  
reason to believe she may be the victim of a vampire attack.  
If this is indeed true then that makes this woman the twentieth victim of the_  
_Vampire Serial Killer that has been the scourge of England since last month. A_  
_team of Vampire Hunters has been dispatched by the Ministry. As it is well known,_  
_the last team sent to find and execute this vampire still has not returned. We can _  
_only hope that this team will fare better than the last.

"They still haven't caught him!" said Terry.

Harry's head turned so fast that he was sure his neck cracked. "Are you saying this is true? There is a vampire serial killer?"

Terry nodded. "True as can be."

"So, are vampires evil like in the movies?" asked Harry.

Kevin shook his head. He folded up the paper and sat it in his lap, then turned to Harry. "No, vampires aren't _all_ evil. There are different species. Vampires of Soul, Demon, and Bite. Each species has different powers and traits. Only the vampires of demon are inherently evil, since instead of a soul they have a demonic entity. I'm willing to bet that it's a demonic vampire since they are the most murderous."

"I think so, too," agreed Terry. "The soulless vamps are really crazed."

Harry just nodded along. He wasn't sure of anything. In fact he was starting to get a little overwhelmed. Everything he had begun to believe as false was indeed true. It all was becoming a lot to take in. Who knows what could be true next? Could Santa Clause and the Easter Bunny be real, too? Were they in the North Pole right now playing strip poker with Rudolph and the Elves? Plus, being around two people who had been around magic their whole lives was like being pumped full of new information all the time. Harry shuddered as a tingly sensation went down his spine. Someone was watching him. He could feel eyes on him. Subtlety, Harry looked around the Great Hall. He looked to the Head Table and met the eyes of Severus Snape.

'_God, is this guy a child molester or something,' _Harry thought angrily, staring right back at the Potions Master.

Their gazes locked. Neither wanted to be the one that broke away first. Harry just narrowed his eyes, letting all his distaste and annoyance show through. Under the table his hands clenched into fists. Harry biggest discomfort was having people stare at him. It was something that just got on his nerves. He didn't know how, but he got the feeling that Professor Snape knew this. It was just something that he could feel. A hunch, one would call it. Those dark blue eyes, so dark and blue that they looked black from far away, bored into Harry's emerald green eyes.

Harry glared, icily. He was beginning to get pissed off. He ground his teeth together refusing to let the cuss words building in his throat from coming out. The Professor was doing this on purpose. He wanted Harry to get angry. He wanted him to make a fool of himself in front of his peers. Harry wouldn't let him win so easily. Not like that. He took the words he wanted to say and wound it up with all his anger. Then gathering it together, he thought one single phrase with as much vehemence he could build.

'_STOP STARING AT ME!'_

Harry watched amazed as Professor Snape visibly shot back in his chair, as if some invisible hand pushed him backwards. With a dazed look, hair falling into his face, Snape looked to Harry with wonder, surprise, and… fear. Harry didn't have time to study his reaction, because Terry and Kevin were tugging on his arm, leading him out of the Great Hall.

* * *

During their free period after Charms, Harry delivered a letter with Serenity to his father. It was the letter he had written last night while in the common room. Feeling the need to be alone, Harry excused him from the common room, where his friends where playing some game called, Mind Trap. Supposedly, it was the latest craze for the wizarding realm. Yawning, Harry entered his dormitory. He wasn't surprised to find the room empty. Harry found his mind wandering as he walked toward his bed. His thoughts were full of _why's._ How had his life changed so much in such a short span of time? Why did scary and weird shit always happen to him?

"Why me?" he wondered aloud, talking to the air.

He collapsed on the foot of his bed, staring at the top of the ceiling. Harry paused as he heard himself. He stopped moving. When in the hell did he start sounding like a mopey victim? He was Harry James Duncan Potter McKnight. He might not be the most tallest or strongest kid, but he prided himself on being tough. He wouldn't let these new problems break him. Whatever this darkness was that invaded his dream it had to be tied to Quirrell. The power felt too similar to be anyone other than him. Snape, was no problem. He was just a mortal man. He was no one special. Whatever new power he was developing could be trained.

'_I can't let this school change me,'_ Harry thought.

He wouldn't let Hogwarts make him forget his lessons and years of training. He might be in a different setting and environment, but he was still Harry. He couldn't forget that. Harry just had to start using his mind like in that past. He couldn't let his feelings override what he had been taught. Harry found a new feeling had overtaken him. He was ready. Ready for whatever was going to meet him head on. He was a McKnight. Not some little crybaby. Harry slipped off his bed and went to his trunk to get his cloak. According to his timetable, flying class was next. The older students informed them that the Flying Instructor liked to get things done as quick and soon as possible. Hence the reason they were flying when it was only the second day of school.

"Okay, now this is just weird," muttered Harry, hitting his trunk.

The damn thing wouldn't open. It was stuck shut. Harry tugged and pulled then kicked the trunk with a mighty force. The lid flew open as if by magic. A crashing sound from within startled him. Harry went on his knees before the large trunk. The lining of the lid had fallen off revealing a hidden compartment. Strapped to the lid were an assortment of weapons. Harry's jaw must have dropped as he got a good look at the hidden goods. Back to back were a Firestar 9mm and a Beretta 10 mil. Next to them was a mini Uzi. Clips were bundled together in the corners strapped down with Velcro. Harry took off the note that was taped to the Uzi.

__

Son,

You know that I don't like you having a gun yet, but you can shoot.  
Use these weapons if you find yourself in 'our' kind of situation.  
Please don't do anything foolish with these. Always always respect  
weapons. Remember that.

Dad

Harry's eyes were wide as he read the note. A low whistle left his mouth. "Geez, Dad. Can we say, overkill?"

"Come on, Harry. We're going to be late," called a voice from down the stairs.

Harry hurriedly replaced the tear away material that hid the guns. He reached into his trunk and pulled out his cloak. Grabbing his wand he sealed his trunk closed with a locking spell. Someone with years of experience could break it. But at least his fellow first years wouldn't be able to open it. That is what mattered. If they happen to find his guns, then he could bet he would be kicked out of school faster than you could say, crack. Harry had already checked the rules about his sword and it seems that an old rule, inspired by Godric Gryffindor, allowed for personal swords. Surprise, surprise, who would have thought.

Harry put on his cloak. A smile was on his face. Having guns nearby was a reassurance. He wouldn't go around armed, except for his knives. But having a powerful weapon nearby at hand was something that put a bounce in his step. Tightening the straps of his knives on his forearms, Harry was ready to go.

* * *

It was almost three thirty in the afternoon, as the Ravenclaws tromped down the grounds to the courtyard. All the other houses were already there. This professor liked to teach everyone at once, rather than going by the regular method of splitting up houses. The clouds in the sky were thick and provided a cover from the sun, only letting sunshine fully touch the earth when the right wind blew. Harry stood beside a broomstick with his peers all around him. They were in two lines of twenty. Harry nodded at Draco and the blond nodded back. Harry looked to Hermione who was staring at her broom with trepidation. She met Harry's eyes and her face hardened into determination. Harry raised his eyebrow. This was going to be fun.

Harry looked around at the other students, judging their facial expressions. A large majority looked scared. He had no idea why. All they were going to do was fly on a broomstick. The whole flying on broomsticks seemed kind of lame. If he wanted to fly, he would book a plane ticket. But there was a small part of Harry that wanted to soar into the clouds without the aide of machinery. Kevin and Terry stood beside Harry, looking a little bored. They were both from wizarding families so it was kind of pointless for them to be here.

The students quieted as a tall man, wearing dark blue robes joined them. His hair was short and kind of spiky at the top. A sort of young, executive look. With jade green eyes he looked down at them. A small smile was fixed on his chiseled, young face. The girls instantly started to perk up and lovesick looks filled their faces. Harry rolled his eyes. If it wasn't a boy band member it was a teacher. No matter where you went it was the same. The Professor didn't bother to talk loud because it was already silent. After all, it wasn't smart to make the guy who would teach you to fly mad.

"Hello, everyone. My name is Mr. Matheson. Welcome to your fist flying class," he said, eyes glinting with warmth. Many of them were thrown back for a moment because his accent was clearly American. "Many of you will end up hating flying but there will be those, who will enjoy. What I want you to know is that, not everyone is a great flyer. Some can fly as if born to do it, others will find they have to work harder to control the broom."

He smiled wide and clapped his hands together. "Now let's get to it. I want everyone to hold their hand over their broom and say, 'Up!'"

Harry and everyone did as instructed. "UP!"

Harry stumbled a little as his broom jumped into his hand at once. His was only one of the handful that did. Terry and Kevin were among those who were successful. Harry smiled at Draco, nodding at the broom in his hand. Draco gave him a suave look and a shrug that meant nothing and everything at once. Hermione caught his eye then wiggled the broom, held in her sure grip. Harry raised an eyebrow, as the bushy haired girl gave him a grin and mouthed 'tie'.

Mr. Matheson nodded at them. "That was just an exercise to test your potential. Now please sit the brooms back down." They did as ordered, then waited for further instruction. "Since, riding broom sticks is somewhat of an exercise, we must stretch before we begin." There were some groans but they were met by his expectant grin. "Calm down and just copy me. Please extend your arms out, parallel to the ground. Spread your legs shoulder width apart. Now on the count of two, we will bend down in a squat to stretch our calves and thigh muscles. These are muscles most used when flying."

The groaning was cut off as they began to stretch. He took them through almost five different stretching routines, before he was finally satisfied. From there they began to mount to their brooms and Mr. Matheson came around to correct them. He fixed postures and corrected grips on their handles. Mr. Matheson walked around the gathered first years, robes sweeping behind him. Finally he held a whistle to his mouth and blew, getting their attention. Heads turned and conversations stopped.

"Now, I'm going to blow my whistle and I want all of you to kick off from the ground. You will feel almost weightless for a moment. That is because your magic inside of your bodies alters the gravity around you. Don't be alarmed. That can lead to panic and you don't want to panic while in the air," said Mr. Matheson. "When you get about five feet in the air, came back to ground to a low hover. Do this by leaning on your broomstick with the slightest pressure. Now only when I blow the whistle…"

But someone was a little anxious. A round faced boy with the mousiest features ever, lifted into the air. From the cries and shouts of the Gryffindors, Harry could guess his name was Neville. Well, Neville rose into the air as if he was a weed on crack. Screams of fright fell from everyone's lips as Neville suddenly slipped off his broom… while twenty feet in the air. He came down faster than he rose and with a sickening crunch -- he landed on the ground. He landed face forward on the grass, arm lying at an odd angle. The glistening white of his bone was protruding from his arm. A compound fracture.

Mr. Matheson bent over Neville, moving him so that he was on his back. Blood gushed forward from both his mouth and his nose. Harry could see Mr. Matheson's eyes sweeping over Neville analyzing everything. From where he stood, Harry could easily tell that Neville had broken his nose and either bit his tongue or knocked a few teeth out. He was too far away to tell.

Mr. Matheson waved his wand and instantly Neville began to float in the air. He turned to the rest of the class. "No one touch a broomstick while I'm gone. I'm going to take him to the hospital wing and I will be right back. If you touch a broomstick," he said, smiling a chilling smile. "Just test me and see what the consequences will be."

As soon as they were out of earshot, everyone began talking. Immediately the Slytherins started laughing about Neville's fall and the Gryffindors were defending him. The Ravenclaws just tuned them out, getting involved in their conversation. They discussed how badly hurt Neville was, rather than defending his honor. Everyone quieted as the voices of Ron Weasley and Draco Malfoy rose above everyone else's. Harry turned to stare at the redhead and blond.

Draco held up a crystalline, glass sphere. "Its not _my_ fault fat boy dropped his Remembrall."

"Its not yours so give it back," said Ron, ears turning red. His face was flushed making his freckles stand out sharply.

Draco smiled a nasty smile. "Who do hell do you think you are--The Lost and Found?" He seemed to get an idea because his gray eyes lit up and his smiled turned cold. He leapt onto his broomstick and smoothly launched into the air. "Come and get it, Weasley."

'_No one is stupid enough to fall for that, Draco,'_ Harry thought. His eyebrows shot up when Ron responded to the taunt and mounted his broom. He flew into the air after Draco with jerky movements. Harry shook his head, feeling like he should be sorry that anyone was that stupid.

"Did he really just fall for that?" muttered Terry. "What a dumbass?"

Kevin nodded. "Looks like they're both going to be in really big trouble. Mr. Matheson was dead serious when he said don't touch a broom." He paused for a moment, looking to Terry. "Two galleons say that they both get caught."

Terry cocked an eyebrow. "I say, only Weasley gets caught."

"Deal," replied Kevin, sealing their bet with a handshake.

Harry chuckled and they shared a hidden smile. They only did that to get a laugh from Harry and they succeeded. Everyone stared into the air watching the fight go on. Ron chased Draco around like a dog playing fetch. They circled around the school in a blur. Draco's taunting laugh drifted down as he zoomed around towers and turrets. Ron doubled back around a tower and met Draco head on, colliding with him. Long arms grabbed at Draco and Ron came away gripping something that came from the blonde's robes. Harry narrowed his eyes, and could make out the faint shape of a pendent. It glinted gold in the light. Ron said something that those on the ground couldn't hear. Draco gave Ron back the Remembrall quickly after Ron stopped talking.

Ron grinned evilly and tossed the pendant over his shoulder.

"Well that was just fucked up," muttered Terry, dryly.

They watched with bated breath as Draco dived. And boy did he. It was beautiful to watch. He leaned forward and down he went, flattening himself against his broom like a javelin. With every passing second he grew closer and closer to the falling pendant. People screamed as it looked like he was on a crash collision with the ground. There was no way he was going to make it. Harry actually found himself wishing that Draco would pull his broom up already. He didn't want the other boy to die. He wasn't all that bad. Draco stretched out his hand, and caught it, less than a foot from the ground. A grunt was heard as he pulled his broom up. Foot tips grazed the grass, as he leveled off bringing his broom to a halt.

"Merlin's beard!"

Heads turned as Mr. Matheson returned. He marched into the courtyard, face white and eyes wide as he looked at Draco. He couldn't even say anything as shock ran through him. Harry looked to Draco and saw that his face too was white. He stood there clutching his pendant and trembling.

"Come. With. Me." Mr. Matheson ground out through clenched teeth.

Pansy Parkinson, a Slytherin, immediately stepped up. "Mister Matheson, you don't understand--"

"Its _Mr_. Matheson and get back in line little girl. No one asked your opinion," he snapped. He crooked a finger at Draco and the boy followed the tall teacher, head bowed and face creased with sorrow. Everyone stayed silent, watching as they disappeared into the castle.

Harry looked at Terry and Kevin. He said the only thing he could say that would fill the silence descending over them: "Well, looks like you clowns both lose the bet."


	10. Day of the Dead

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter either. It belongs to its creator J.K. Rowling and probably Warner Bros. too. I'm not too sure about that. This piece of literature is simply the work of a humble fan.

* * *

:Author Notes:

This will be leaning more toward alternate reality. It will have the same characters just a different spin on things. If you're not a fan or strong cursing or maybe even violence and bloodshed then there is a good chance that this story isn't for you.

* * *

"I don't won't to kill you and you don't want to be dead." Danny Glover, _Silverado_

_- _

Potter

Chapter Nine: Day of the Dead

By: Water Mage

_- _

_A man stood outside the residence of the McKnights. Tall, bricked walls boarded the whole property of the McKnight Estate. Guards, clothed in all black, stood at their posts, keeping an ever-watchful eye on the area. One elderly man stood in the middle of the street in plain eyesight. He didn't have to worry about if they, the guards, could see him. A simple spell took care of that. As long as he wanted to remain unnoticed he would be invisible to their watching eyes. A really difficult spell. Some would say dark magic, but this was a desperate time for all of them. Taboo spells were not so taboo at the moment. The wind blew ruffling the scarlet robes he wore. His matching hat trimmed in white almost blew off but he quickly held it down. A small pop was heard from beside him. He didn't even turn around. He knew who was behind him._

_"Did you get the information, Professor?" he asked the tall witch beside him._

_She nodded, keeping her eyes trained on the property before them. Minerva McGonagall too was clothed in scarlet robes like her mentor, Albus Dumbledore. A crest of a phoenix in flight, right above the heart, adorned the robe. Her long black hair was free from its usual bun. It hung down her back in soft waves. The effect made her look ten years younger. She rubbed her hands together, the friction giving her chilled body a marginal amount of heat._

_McGonagall turned to Dumbledore. "The Order has already questioned the Dursley's. The wife knows nothing, but Vernon Dursley… it seems he willingly gave away, Harry. You know that Veritiserum destroys a muggles liver, so using the truth potion is an unavailable method. We have to go on his word."_

_"What about this Killian McKnight? Do we have information on him?" asked Dumbledore._

_McGonagall pulled out a folder, seemingly from nowhere. It appeared simply by slide of hand. Magic. "From what the Order has gathered, Killian McKnight is a widow. Wife and son died a little over a year ago in a car accident. He's twenty-six years old and runs a law firm in London. He's a complete null. No trace of magic has appeared in his bloodline for generations."_

_Dumbledore was quiet as she rattled out facts about this man's life. With a practiced gesture he pushed his half moon spectacles higher on his nose. "What about criminal record?"_

_McGonagall turned a page, her eyes scanning down the page quickly. "The man hasn't had so much as a parking ticket before. His record is clean." She looked up hair falling into her face before she hurriedly brushed it away, tucking it behind her ear. "Sir, I know that this McKnight fellow sounds ideal, but we can't leave him here. All of the Deatheaters haven't been arrested. The boy is still in danger!"_

_"I know that Professor, calm yourself," replied Dumbledore placidity. He gently grabbed her hand and held it up to the air. A soft crackle was heard all around them. It sounded almost like electricity being funneled through a conductor. With a gasp, McGonagall snatched her hand back._

_"What in heavens!" McGonagall murmured, rubbing her stinging hand. "Albus, what is that?"_

_Dumbledore stroked his full, waist length white beard. "That my dear Professor is what I have been contemplating for the last few hours. From what I have gathered it seems to be some kind of magic based force, that repels anyone with magic. It goes around the whole compound."_

_Professor McGonagall's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Even Hogwarts doesn't have such a powerful defense and it was made by the Four Founders."_

_"I was quite astounded myself. I tried to apparate into the house itself to take Harry, but I was repelled by this… force. I tried to walk onto the grounds but the force again blocked me. The effect was quiet nasty." He rolled up his sleeves to show his arms. McGonagall gasped at the deep cuts going down his arm. It looked like Professor Dumbeldore had gotten involved in a knife fight… and lost._

_"Oh my," McGonagall exclaimed, holding a hand to her mouth._

_Dumbledore nodded. "Oh my, indeed. Whatever surrounds this compound is a force so powerful that even my magic is useless against it. I have never seen anything like it before."_

_Professor McGonagall sighed, her mouth settling into a frown. "So does this mean that we have to leave young Harry here. With this stranger? Surely we can get past this force!"_

_The elderly headmaster shook his head. "No, I'm afraid not. There is no way; I can say this for sure. Don't you see Professor that the magic that is keeping us out, is simply a protective measure?_ Whatever this _is, it is protecting Harry. So in reality it is the safest place for him. I don't know what this force is but I will continue to study it further. It is most unusual."_

_"I don't like this, Albus. Just remember that this was your idea," she replied bitterly. With a snap of her finger she disapparated away._

_Professor Dumbledore looked at the grounds of the McKnight mansion one more time before he too disapparated. The spell that hung in the air broke with a snap as soon as he disappeared. The guards went on full alert as the echoing pop of his apparation reached their ears. Nothing jumped out from the shadows, no explosions were heard, only silence. They relaxed going back on low alert, the echoing sound now erased from their minds…_

* * *

Harry entered Professor Dumbledore's office after knocking briefly. The room looked exactly as it had when he visited it almost two months before on the first day of school. Harry raised an eyebrow as he gazed about. Although furniture and such was the same, a new décor was in the room. Carved pumpkins with their glowing faces stood in various spots around the room. Today was Halloween but Harry never would have thought the Headmaster would personally decorate his office. Dumbledore looked up from the book he was reading at his desk, as Harry entered the room. He offered the boy a smile, closing the book as Harry took a seat in front of the desk.

"Hello, Harry. Thank you for joining me here," smiled Dumbledore.

Harry smiled back. It was one of those polite mirrored smiles. When someone smiles at you, one can't help but to smile back. Its something that just happens. Harry had perfected this particular smile a long time ago, during numerous dinners and balls held by his father with the rest of the crime community. It was bright but lacking in warmth. Professional, yet not friendly. Perfect.

"What is this about, Professor?" asked Harry shortly, harsher than he intended. He paused, clearing his throat, then continued with a more polite tone. Or as polite as he could be at this time of morning. He wasn't to big on waking up early nowadays. "Your note said you had something to talk to me about."

Dumbledore nodded, his half moon spectacles slipping down his nose slightly with the action. "I just wanted to talk. Ask you a few questions. Are fine with this?"

Harry shrugged, nonchalant. "I'm okay. What type of questions?"

"I want to ask you, how is everything at home?" asked Dumbledore, looking for the entire world like a psychiatrist. All he needed was a large legal pad and an expensive pen and he would have the look down.

Harry just stared him. He was completely thrown off by the question. "Everything is fine. Why do you want to know?" he asked suspiciously.

"Well, as you know I once knew your mother. When your parents were killed, I did my best to decide where the best and safest place for you was…"

Harry frowned, as he mentally reviewed what the Headmaster just told him. No matter how he thought about it. It didn't sound right. "Why would that decision be up to you? You might have knew them but I know according to the law, the next of kin should make decisions like that."

Dumbledore took Harry's comments in stride, neither appearing angry nor sad, merely impassive. "I was someone they regarded as being highly wise, so I made the decision of sending you to Lily's sister. However, I didn't know that the woman would give you up for adoption so quickly."

"Your point is what? You think you're my social worker or something because you _knew_ my parents," snapped Harry. "My father has always been there for me. He's the best father in the whole world."

Dumbledore shook his head. "Harry, I'm sorry if I mislead you, but I am not trying to call your father's parenting skills into question. I was just wondering if your life has been going well. I feel a sense of responsibility for you because I was the one who made the decision to send you to your aunt's house. I never dreamed she would give you up for adoption."

"She did and what's past is past," replied Harry. "Professor Dumbledore, can I go now? I'm already late for Charms."

Professor Dumbledore nodded slowly and silent sigh slipping from his lips. He looked saddened and tired all at once at that one moment. "Yes, Harry, you may go."

Without even a backward glance, Harry marched from the office. He shouldered his knapsack as he walked down the deserted corridor. In the distance he could hear Peeves cackling like a banshee, probably excited over successfully pulling off another childish prank. Harry looked perfectly calm on the outside. Only by staring into his eyes, which seemed to bleed into a dark emerald green, one could tell Harry was pissed off. Internally, Harry was fuming over the Headmaster's actions. Did the old man think he was his guardian or something? The audacity of Dumbledore really got to him. If he was so concerned for him, why didn't Dumbledore show up when he was younger? Who waits eleven years to check up on someone they supposedly care about? No one. So that meant Dumbledore either couldn't get to him, whom he doubted, or the old man was lying to him. The latter wouldn't surprise Harry one bit. Dumbledore was lying to the rest of the wizarding realm about his background. Over time lying could eventually become second nature.

"Hey, watch out!"

Harry looked up, stopping in his tracks. So deep in his internal thinking, Harry didn't even notice he bumped into someone until they fell onto the ground with a shout. Harry looked apologetically at the person he knocked over. Draco's blonde hair had fallen into disarray, falling across his forehead like a curtain. Glaring at him, Draco helped himself up ignoring Harry's outstretched hand.

"Sorry about that, Draco. I wasn't looking where I was going," Harry apologized.

Draco smoothed his hair back with one hand. A practiced gesture turned habit. "What has you up in arms about anyway?"

Harry fixed his face, erasing what emotion showed. People were never good at reading him for a reason and he wanted to keep it that way. Having someone tell him what he was feeling was unnerving. His mask was always perfect or as perfect as he could make it, while under pressure. Without even a thought, Harry flashed his fake smile at Draco.

"Nothing's wrong with me, Draco. I was just thinking about how late I was for class," he lied smoothly.

Draco nodded, forgetting his earlier analysis of Harry. "Oh. Professor Snape has me running an errand for him. I suppose its better than sitting over a steaming cauldron."

"How's practice going?" asked Harry.

Draco smiled. It was one of his typical Colgate smiles that was so bright that Harry felt the need to reach for sunglasses. If they were in the muggleworld Harry would bet his life that Draco would be hounded by modeling agencies. "It's going great so far. I still can't believe that I made Seeker instead of getting expelled."

"It's been almost two months. I think its time to start believing," replied Harry. "You deserve to be Seeker. Your really, really good. Somebody said that you're the best Seeker Hogwarts has seen in a hundred years."

Draco's cheeks tinged pink, but it wasn't a full on blush. Only two barely noticeable pink dots marred his cheeks. Draco was a Malfoy through and through. No way would he let himself to be embarrassed in front of another person. He reigned in his blush, adopting his usual superior look that was oh so famous among the Malfoy's. Harry glanced down at his watch and swore softly.

"Listen Draco, its been nice, but I have to get to Charms," said Harry quickly, sprinting away. He barely heard a goodbye from Draco; he was gone around the corner so fast. Harry's hair trailed behind him like a long, silky, black streamer. His breath came in short pants as he skidded to a halt outside the Charms classroom almost ten minutes later.

"Good of you to join us Mister Potter-McKnight," said Professor Flitwick, noticing Harry slink into the room.

Harry rolled his eyes. He always hated when teachers tried to embarrass students like that. Professor Flitwick marked Harry tardy on his roll sheet as Harry moved to sit by Kevin and Terry. They gave him questioning looks but Harry mouthed 'tell you later'. The Charms classroom was set up in a large room with the students sitting in tables bordering the walls, leaving the middle of the room free with space. Only thing in the middle was a podium with a set of steps leading up to it. Currently, Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was standing at the podium. He was short. Like smaller than even four feet. It was a school wide speculation that Professor Flitwick was probably descended from Dwarves, but nothing was factual on that particularly rumor. Personally, Harry thought that Flitwick's mother fucked a goblin, then nine months later…

"Now as I was saying," begin Flitwick in his small, squeaky voice. He gave Harry a long reproachful look. The boy in question merely crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. A classic 'fuck with me if you want to' look. Professor Flitwick got the message and after clearing his suddenly dry throat he continued. "We will begin to make objects fly today."

The Ravenclaws smiled excitedly at each other, while the Gryffindors, who they shared the class with, cheered like third graders on crack. Harry rolled his eyes, thinking '_Can we say Ritalin'_. Sometimes, sometimes, Harry thought the Gryffindors had A.D.D. Riley, even though she was a friend, didn't help disprove his theory. In fact she only encouraged it.

Terry snorted, sharing Harry's feelings. He leaned closer to Harry and Kevin and whispered, "Damn, can we say excited much?"

Professor Flitwick split them up into pairs. The Ravenclaws quickly complied. Flitwick was after all their Head of House. It was nice to argue with someone who could make your life a living hell, if you couldn't help it. Only a few complaints came from the Gryffindors. Well, not really Gryffindors, plural. More like Ron Weasley. The boy began to vehemently decline being partners with Hermione Granger. Professor Flitckwitck was having none of that. He used a spell to glue Ron to his seat then had Hermione, to her amusement, sit down next to him. The redhead glowered, but there was nothing he could do about it.

Terry and Kevin became partners and Harry's partner happened to be Seamus Finnigan, a Gryffindor. The blond Irish boy was a bundle of excitement. Harry could swear the boy was littering bouncing in his seat. And they hadn't even learned the spell yet. Once everyone was seated and partnered up, Flitwick returned to his podium.

"Please, place your wands on the tables in front of you. I feel that you are now advanced enough to attempt this spell. We have been practicing correct pronunciations and wand movements for two months now. Remember that those two things are the keys to a successful spell. Remember swish and flick, boys and girls, swish and flick. You may begin."

Seamus' blond hair was long, longer than Harry's. It easily bet his length by four inches. When he bounced in his seat, his hair repeatedly fell into his face, blocking his eyes. "So you ready, mate?" he asked.

Harry nodded, picking up his wand. "You go first. I want to practice the wand movement first."

"_Wingardium Leviosa!" _Seamus shouted, pointing his wand at the feather they were supposed to levitate. Harry blinked. The feather hadn't even so much as twitched. Seamus mouth set in a grim frown. Quicker than Harry could follow, Seamus had his wand in the air and began to psychotically tap the feather, all the while muttering the incantation.

"What the hell are you doing, you fucking retard!" whispered Harry furiously. There was a burst of light and a flash then the feather bursts into flames.

Seamus yelped. "Oh saints preserve us!" he grabbed his hat and threw it onto the flames, smothering the fire.

Harry could only gape at the blond who was smiling at him sheepishly. "Seamus, are you completely mental?"

Seamus paused. "No, why?" he asked, cocking his head to the side.

A constant throb behind his temples caused Harry to sigh. '_Just great. Now I have a fucking migraine.'_ Spearing Seamus an annoyed glance he picked up his wand, holding it just as Flitwick instructed. Calmly he took a breath then exhaled. Gathering his will he spoke the words of the incantation calmly and confidently.

"_Wingardium Leviosa!"_

He barely registered a feminine voice speaking the incantation at the same time as he. Harry was in his own little world, as a well of triumph flooded through him. He smiled satisfied, watching as the single white feather defied gravity by hovering in mid air about four feet above their heads.

"My stars! Well done. Everyone look, Mister Potter and Miss Granger have done it. And at the same exact time, too," cried Professor Flitwick.

Harry turned his head, and met the deep blue eyes of Hermione Granger. The girl winked at Harry. Ron who was sitting next to her, stared at Hermione as if his vision could kill. Well, if it did she would have been six feet under by now. Harry could almost see storm clouds surround Ron's head. The redhead was beyond pissed. He was steaming. By the time the bell rang and they were walking down the corridor that opened into the corridor, Ron was even madder. Loudly, he began to tell all those walking near about his hatred of Hermione.

"She is such a bitch!" Ron yelled, loudly in fact, to all those within hearing range. "I'm amazed her parents put up with her. I would have literally smothered her in her sleep, if I were her dad."

Terry, Harry, and Kevin looked at each other as they walked down the corridor behind Ron. They had no choice but to hear Ron's loud tirade. Kevin raised his eyebrow. "Does he have a hardon for her or what?"

"Ewww, lets not give me mental images please," pleaded Terry.

Harry nodded, closing his eyes, wiping out the mental picture. "I agree wholeheartedly with that statement."

"Maybe she's going for Bitch of the Year award, that's why she has no friends!" laughed Ron.

Someone bumped past Harry, knocking over his book bag further down his shoulder. "Hey watch! --"

He barely managed to catch a glimpse of Hermione's tear streaked fast before she hurried past. Those in the hallway heard his shout and turned to see what the commotion was about. Ron and his friends, who happened to be his dormmates, stopped walking as they saw Hermione. Ron especially looked uncomfortable. Harry didn't know what made him do it, but he grabbed Hermione's hand, stopping her in her tracks. She struggled briefly but Harry gripped her hand tightly, not letting go. Harry sighed inwardly. He was always a sucker for crying girls. _Damn those etiquette lessons_. Harry faced Ron, who was still standing amongst his friends. Harry's friends, plus Hermione stood to side of him, wondering what he was playing at.

"Really Weasley it's a wonder _YOU_ have any friends," said Harry icily. Ron flinched but Harry continued on. Now that he started, he finally realized that it was a little hard to stop. It had been a while since he had torn into anyone. "For your information, Hermione here does have friends. She has me."

"Us," said Terry and Kevin in unison. It seemed rehearsed but truly it was just a coincidence.

Harry smiled coldly. "Before you go around insulting anyone, get the facts straight, _freckles._ I mean really, what is with all the freckles on your body. I can fucking play connect the dots with them." Harry walked closer getting right into Ron's face. They were almost nose to nose. Whispering so only Ron could hear Harry put as much frost and ice into his voice as he could manage. "Now, if you ever talk about _my_ friend again…" Harry smiled, enjoying the tremor that racked Ron's body. "I'll smother _you_ in _your_ sleep."

"Listen Potter, I--" Ron began.

Harry cut him off. "No you listen, Weasley." Ron's closed his eyes hiding the fear there. "Don't ever let my name or my friends' names leave your lips again. I promise you, every pain in your life will be cake if you talk about Hermione again."

Ron gathered what Gryffindor courage he had, and glared down at the shorter boy. "Potter, I could kill you before you even landed a hit on me."

Harry smirked, lifting the sleeves of his robes showing his knives. Harry detached himself from all emotions. Without even trying, Harry let himself go into that silent place. He went into his warrior mode. That place where he felt no fear, no anger, no guilt no emotions. He could kill someone without feeling the nagging sense of regret. This look meant death. Ron looked into Harry's eyes that seemed to bleed into a darker green. Really for the first time in his life, he knew pure fear. They say that the eyes are the windows into a person's soul. But Ron would tell anyone, that after staring into Harry's eyes… The boy had no soul.

"You could kill me… and you would feel nothing," gasped Ron, disbelief flowing through him. He said it so low that only he and Harry heard his words. In fact all those near them had cleared a space around them, surely thinking the two were about to come to blows. No one could see Harry's face but Ron.

Harry only blinked in response. It was true. Harry could kill Ron at this moment and not even lose a wink of sleep over it. On one hand he felt utterly disturbed by this and on the other he completely didn't give a flying fuck. And the latter worried Harry.

"I'm warning you Weasley, don't fuck with my friends. That is your last and only warning," whispered Harry softly.

Ron was still staring at Harry in fear. "You would really kill me." Looking into Harry's eyes, he saw the surety. "You bastard."

Harry stepped back and raised his voice, so that those watching could finally hear them. "Sticks and stones, freckles. Sticks and stones."

He walked back to his friends, and wordlessly they walked down the corridor, leaving the students who were watching to whisper loudly to one another. They were all smart enough not talk about the event within earshot of others. They exited the castle, walking down the grounds to the lake. The sun was high in the sky, throwing sunshine all around them. The lake glittered like a sheet of glass, making the scenery around them tranquil and serene.

"Sweet Avalon!" yelled Terry smiling. He rounded on Harry with wide eyes. "You really have a temper on you!"

Kevin nodded. "You're telling me. _I_ was even a little scared and he wasn't even talking to me. By the way what were you two whispering? We couldn't hear you."

Harry ignored the question; instead he turned his attention to Hermione. "Are you okay? Weasley was really being a dick."

Hermione had stopped crying a long time ago. Only the tear tracks adorning her cheeks was a sign that she had been crying at all. She shrugged, turning to the lake. "Thanks for helping me Harry, but you all know Weasley is right about me. I don't try to get on anyone's nerves, but I just want to be the best. I was a complete flake at my last school. I hated reading, school, life… I thought that here I could change all of that by leaving my old reputation behind. I didn't want to be _that dumb girl_ again. I wanted to be the one everyone looked to for answers. I wanted to be,_ that smart girl_.

'_Do we start playing violins_,' wondered Harry thinking. The way she was talking, he could tell she was leaving a lot out. But she wasn't the only one with a hard life… secrets. Harry looked at her face and saw the sincerity and pain so fresh showing openly. Harry knew then that Hermione was one of them. She was one of those people he would truly call friend. A person who ranked up there on his list of protection. A person he would kill for if need be.

* * *

The Great Hall was decorated with so many Halloween decorations that Harry thought his brain was about to explode from the overload. Giant carved pumpkins sat in the corners of the room, their scary faces glowing from the lit candles held inside. Students kept jumping at their classmates scaring the ever-loving shit out of each other. Almost everyone had on some type of face paint. Some of the older kids had on masks or wore creepy gloves with fake knives attached to it. Harry didn't know what was the deal with that. A typical 31st of October. It was Halloween what the hell did one expect of the magical realm.

"Rahhhhhhh!" yelled Michael Corner, from the down the table. Padma Patil screamed like a redhead stepchild, staring at Michael's covered face with fright. She regained control of herself to openly glare at all those who were laughing at her.

Harry shook his head, the smile on his face never leaving. That was just too funny. The food tonight was amazing. Hogwarts had gone all out with preparing the feast before them. It was better than the first of term banquet by far. Simply because this time there was no one staring at Harry, as if he was some butt scratching monkey at the zoo. Harry helped himself to a roasted lamb. Just as he raised it to his mouth the doors of the Great Hall banged open. Professor Quirrell ran in. His turban was askew and his face was filled with terror. Harry narrowed his eyes as the Professor ran to the Head Table to Dumbledore.

"What is he up to?" muttered Harry quietly. In two months he still had yet to trust the Professor.

Everyone watched as Quirrell sank to his knees before Dumbledore. The Headmaster rose from his chair waiting. Quirrell was panting so hard it was a miracle he hadn't had a panic attack. "There is a troll in the dungeons," he said weakly. "I just thought that little note was worthy of notice."

He collapsed backward, fainting away onto the stone floor.

Everyone looked at each other… and screamed.

Harry was one of the many who was staring around with a 'what the fuck' expression. He knew what a troll was, but really its not like the school was about to blow up. Professor Dumbledore raised his wand shooting off green and red sparks into the air. Silence accompanied the action. A pin dropping could probably be heard it was so silent.

"Prefects," ordered Dumbledore, his voice carrying across the hall. "Lead your Houses to the dormitories now. Head Boy and Head Girl, you are with the staff!'

That was all they needed before they were off. They passed other groups of people running in different directions. As they walked past a crowd of confused Slytherins, who were heading down the stairs, a Prefect suddenly ran up to them, getting Wesley's attention.

"What is it, Artemis?" asked Wesley, the Ravenclaw prefect.

The other prefect, was a blond girl. Her shiny prefects badge gleamed in the torchlight. "Professor Sprout is up ahead. She's facing off against the troll but its really pissed and madder than hell."

Suddenly, Padma Patil and Su Li began screaming bloody murder, pointing toward the shadowed corridor. A sound of something crashing reached Harry's ears. He looked up into the corridor ahead of them, seeing what the girls were pointing at.

"Well fuck me," he whispered.

Coming toward them was the ugliest thing he had ever seen in his life. The troll walked like a man but looked nothing like one. It was twelve feet tall, its skin was an ugly gray color. Never had he seen a creature with a hulking body such as it. Its body was that of a wrestler or even a bodybuilder but on supped up supersteroids. Held in its grip was a huge wooden club. It stopped before the trembling students, staring at them with searching black eyes. It roared loudly and rushed them, club raised into the air.

They screamed loudly scattering in different directions. In a 'comic or movie' people always huddle together when there is a dangerous situation. In real life things are a bit different. If one person runs. Hell, everybody is running. Every man for themselves. It may not sound ideal or brave. But dammit it's the human thing. Survival of the quickest.

"_Stupefy!" _shouted Wesley, shooting the spell at the troll.

A jet of black light raced through the air, hitting the troll square in the chest. It staggered before regaining footing. A howl of anger left its mouth and it charged again, quicker this time. Wesley edged backward. He tripped and fell onto his back. Terror filled his heart as he scuttled backwards, getting out of the creature's eyesight. Michael Corner seemed stuck with fear. He stood stone still in the middle of the corridor staring sightlessly at the creature. Harry hid behind a suit of armor watching with bated breath. He looked down at the ground not wanting to see the conclusion as the troll raced toward Michael, swinging back his club.

There was a shout and Harry looked up to see Professor Sprout, push Michael out of the way. The boy fell to ground, skidding feet away. The club arched through the air faster than they could blink. The sound of wood beating into Sprouts skull with a sickening crunch was something that would never leave their thoughts. Blood sprayed everywhere like a wild geyser. The sticky red fluid splattered against the walls covering the floor. The troll roared in satisfaction and proceeded to repeatedly beat her head in with the club.

"_Diablito!"_

There was a sound like a shotgun and the troll fell over onto his back with an echoing _thud._ Its body lay in one place and its head was in another. Its severed head landed in Professor Sprout's fresh puddle of blood. Its face was slack with death. The students peeked out from their hiding places. Professor Snape stood in the corridor, wand outstretched and face paler than normal. Harry stepped forward, his gaze not seeing anything about Professor Sprout lying dead on the stone floor. Her lifeless mud colored eyes stared sightlessly at the ceiling. Her hair was matted around the wound, drenching her locks in blood. Pieces of flesh and bits of brain stuck to the floor. It was like looking at a painting. Your mind saw the image but it refused to put it together, as if trying to protect itself. Harry stared and finally it clicked.

He could smell the blood.

It was everywhere. The walls. The floor, everywhere. There was so much of it. It clung to his shoes actually getting inside the soles. Harry heard a squishing sound and looked down. A piece of torn flesh clung to his shoe. Harry yelped, stumbling backward. His feet tripped over something hard and he fell. He landed on his ass blood splattering upwards. It soaked through his robes going through his pants. His hands were covered in the cool blood. He stared down at his bloody hands and groaned. Harry scrambled to his knees suddenly feeling light headed and nauseous. He half scurried, half-crawled away from the blood, then bent low to the ground and threw up.

All of the meals he had eaten today came to visit him. His mind was a haze. His head felt light and dizzy. Through his disorder he could hear the sound of others retching, throwing up their meals. Harry vomited till there nothing left in his stomach. He looked around and could see his friends in other similar states. The girls were in tears. Shouting could be heard as the Professors tried to no avail to calm the students down. Lisa Turpin couldn't keep it in any longer. A blood-curdling scream built in her throat then erupted forth. Harry didn't blame her. If his throat weren't sore from vomiting he would have joined her. Harry closed his eyes, trying to block out the image of the red ruin that was Professor Sprout's head.

_'Day of the Dead, alright. Happy fucking Halloween.'_

_

* * *

_Well wasn't that just the squeakiest thing… All of you thought a student was going to die. I never said it was a student, merely a cannon character. Kinda wanted Snape to die, but I have plans for the greasy one. I want the next chapter to have some action in it. Like real action. More death, some shooting, magic, some forbidden forest journeying.

I know Harry's reaction may have seen odd given his background. But you still have to think about the fact that he just saw his teacher get her brains bashed in. Then add to the fact he just fell in a pull of her blood. A little traumatic don't you think. Even homocide detectives throw up after seeing a crime scene even after years of witnessing them.


	11. Bloody Saturday

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter either. It belongs to its creator J.K. Rowling and probably Warner Bros. too. I'm not too sure about that. This piece of literature is simply the work of a humble fan. I also credit Laurell K. Hamilton for various themes, subjects, or references that I may use. It won't be a crossover but certain elements from the series will be used.

* * *

:Author Notes:Killian

This will be leaning more toward alternate reality. It will have the same characters just a different spin on things. If you're not a fan or strong cursing or maybe even violence and bloodshed then there is a good chance that this story isn't for you.

* * *

"'Let there be light!' said God, and there was light. 'Let there be blood!' said man, and there's a sea." George Gordon, _Lord Byron_

Potter

Chapter Ten: Bloody Saturday

By: Water Mage

The four walled room was huge. An office fit for any business tycoon. Its walls were decorated with tasteful, expensive paintings from some of the great artists in history, Van Gou, Rembrant, Picasso… A lacquer desk was positioned in front of a long, glass window, which held a magnificent view of the city of London. In a tall, high-backed chair, coated entirely in leather, sat the resident of this office. Killian McKnight lounged in his chair, eyes glued to the latest letter sent by his son, Harry. A frown became more pronounced upon his face, as he read further and further down the letter. A knock sounded at the door and jade green eyes looked up from the letter. At his call the door opened. Todd and Dylan entered the room. They both wore black suits tailored to their forms. Their hair was combed into the newest style. Long, covering the ears yet not touching the collar. A required picture ID that clipped onto their breast pocket completed their look.

"Sir, the Moongate Alpha Clan managed to break into Police Headquarters. According to this data, they successfully stole one hundred million pounds worth of heroin that was stored in their Drug Holding Room. Each kilo brick…" said Dylan, reading off the report held in his hands.

Todd placed a hand on Dylan's arm, signaling him to stop talking. He looked at Killian, concern washing over his face. "Sir? Is everything alright?"

Killian looked at them with hardened eyes. "Seems Hogwarts isn't as safe as I was made to believe. A troll broke into the school and killed a professor."

"Is the young master alright?" asked Todd immediately.

Killian nodded. "Harry is fine. He was witnessed to the murder and even with his exposure to similar bloody shit, it was still a shock to see his teacher get her brains bashed in by an eight foot troll." He turned his eyes back to the letter. "It seems he really liked her and her class."

Dylan scowled. "I knew sending him to that crackhouse without proper guards was a bad idea."

"He does have a proper guard," countered Todd. He turned to Killian. "Is Shadow still doing their job?"

"As far as I can tell. The troll thing was just an accident it seems," replied Killian, rubbing his chin in thought. "It seems though that a few of his teachers may have… issues."

Todd raised an eyebrow. "_Issues?"_

Killian sighed, letting out the breath he had been holding. Lifting his manicured hand, Killian loosened the knot of his tie, sliding it down till it was halfway down his chest. Expertly, with his one hand he unbuttoned the top buttons of his collared short. "One teacher seems to have some kind of private vendetta against Harry. The other…" Killian sighed again for what had to be the fourth time in ten minutes. "This Professor Quirrell according to Harry is evil. With a capital E."

Dylan clapped his hands together. A dark smile playing on his face. "Do we get to take them out?"

"No," answered Killian, shaking his head. "I don't want to get involved in that world quite just yet. It is still too new."

They nodded obediently. Todd spoke up as a nagging question tugged at his thoughts. "Sir, how does Harry know exactly that this Professor Quiralle --Quiralle, Quirrell same thing-- is 'evil'. I know that the young master is good at reading people, but its not like he can read thoughts."

Killian shrugged that gaellic shrug that he was famous for. It meant everything and yet nothing all at once. He stood up from his chair and walked to the window. His green eyes scanned the city below him. "Harry says that he can sense it."

"So he has ESPN?" asked Dylan.

Todd rolled his eyes. "That's ESP, git. It stands for Extrasensory Perception. It describes a way of communicating or of being aware of something without using the known senses. Usually the unknown sense deals with the mind, like telepathy, clairvoyance, or psychokinesis."

Dylan raised an eyebrow. "How do you know this?"

Todd shrugged. "I watched a lot of science fiction television shows growing up."

Killian's lips twitched and at the corner they pulled up, threatening to break into a full-blown smile. But right now and the topic at hand prevented him from letting himself indulge in such mannerisms. "I don't know what you would call it, but Harry says its telling him that Quirrell is evil and its creeping the hell out of him. And I believe him. If he senses are telling him this so clearly it must be some kind of inherited magical talent or something. For now he's keeping it quiet. He hasn't told anyone at his school, which I think is a good thing. Harry says he can tell he's the only one with this… 'power'."

"A trump card if I do say so," Todd smirked, feeling a rush of pride at his pupil.

Killian mouth settled into a grim smile. He placed his hand flat against the window, turning his gaze to the view of London before him. "Let's just hope this _trump card_ is actually a real power and not just his imagination." He returned his stare to his two guards. They flinched at the dark look swimming in his eyes. "If this Quirrell so much as breathes funny in Harry's direction then all bets are off. We'll level that fucking castle to the ground."

* * *

October passed and they entered November, the weather turned very cold much to Harry's distaste. He had been holding onto the hope that maybe Hogwarts had magical weather control. The mountains that stood near the school could be seen going from their usual brown color to a misty gray as snow piled up their steep, rocky slopes. Every morning frost coated the ground and a new first year everyday had to be brought into the infirmary, for accidentally slipping on one of the many ice patches that littered the grounds.

Two and half weeks, that was how much time had passed since the Halloween Accident, as some students had taken to calling it. Those whom had managed to see the murder were given the option of having sessions with the school counselor. Most of them had taken the option, wanting badly to put the event behind them. Harry still heard some of the girls' wake up screaming during the night. Their sweet dreams had turned into nightmares, filled with towering trolls and blood raining from the sky. There was even talk of teachers doing a school wide memory charm to erase their memories, but of course no such thing could ever be allowed.

Herbology had been cancelled for obvious reasons. No teacher had been found that could replace Professor Sprout, not even a substitute. Many of the plants in the greenhouses were dangerous, either poisonous or simply just plain murderous, so just any teacher wouldn't have worked. It took extensive knowledge and skill to handle those plants.

Harry sat in a tall box stand that towered high in the sky. Many other identical stands bordered the long, green field below. His friends sat on either side of him. Today was Saturday and it was the schools first ever Quidditch match. Terry and Kevin had seen a Quidditch game before, since they had grown up knowing of the magical realm, but for Harry and Hermione this was something they were anxious to see. Hermione had taken to hanging around them ever since they had defended her from Ron outside of Charms Halloween day, two weeks ago. She really was nice to talk to and with her love of books and knowledge; Hermione fit in nicely with their group.

"They look better everyday, I think," said Hermione.

They followed her gaze. Hermione looked with a sympathetic frown to where most of the Hufflepuffs were clomped together. Along their cheeks each one of them wore a painted on black stripe. The students of the badger house had taken their Head of Houses death pretty hard. The stripes along their cheek were in memory of their fallen Professor Sprout. Professor McGonagall was now their acting Head of House, while also continuing her own assigned duties, but for the Hufflepuffs it wasn't the same. Harry couldn't fault them for it. He had seen Professor Sprout's death first hand, it wasn't no easy death. You see there is death and then there is _death._

Even to Harry who had seen many people die, Sprout's death was gruesome.

Kevin nodded. "They do look better."

Harry agreed that they did also. On his lap Thor laid out, meowing softly. Kevin opened his mouth to add his input but suddenly the crowd began to roar and clap. Harry eyes looked down to the field. The Gryffindor team in robes of scarlet and the Slytherins in jade robes marched onto the field to loud cheers. Mr. Matheson was referring. He stood in the middle of the field waiting for the two teams. With a magnified voice, Mr. Matheson asked them to mount their brooms, once they heard his brief rules of the game. Then with a sharp blast from the silver whistle, hanging from his neck, they were off.

"Amazing," Harry breathed inaudibly, watching as the fifteen brooms launched into the air with an amazing speed. Seeing how fluid and graceful they moved in the air was really jaw dropping.

Terry grinned widely at Harry and Hermione's slacked jaws. "You think this is something. You should see a professional game."

"My dad took me to see the Quidditch World Cup last year and trust me they have nothing on the pros," smiled Kevin.

Harry watched the game with undisputed attention. He shouted along with the rest of the school, cheered when a goal was scored, and booed when Mr. Matheson made a bad call. Right now, for this one moment he was a regular kid with no worries about people killing him or some dark force plotting to conquer his soul. Harry grinned, and jumped up out of his seat as Draco closed in on the golden snitch. With quick movements, Harry saw the blond close his hand around the flying ball.

"Draco Malfoy has caught the golden snitch, earning his team a hundred and fifty points, and winning the game," a voice announced from all around them. The Gryffindors sulked, the Slytherins cheered, and the rest of the school applauded civilly and politely. The game ended just like that.

"Well it certainly is a rather barbaric sport but it _is_ interesting," said Hermione, as they walked together back to the school.

Thor ran between their legs, slipping once and awhile on the icy ground. "Now I want to see a professional game," said Harry. "If they are better than the school teams, then it should really be something to see."

They entered the school feeling immediately warmer and grateful to be out of the cold weather. They waved goodbye to Hermione watching as she climbed the stairs, which would take her to the floor housing the entrance to Gryffindor Tower. Talk still centered on Quidditch as they continued on their way to the Ravenclaw common room. Not fifteen minutes later they finally came upon the mirror that served as the entrance.

"Never judge a book by its cover," spoke Kevin. The mirror's surface wavered like a rippling pond. One by one they stepped through.

The common room was filled with people. Most sat in the cushy chairs that surrounded the roaring fire in the hearth. They chose to sit in the table by the window. Thor scampered off as soon as he saw a girl open up bag of chips. Harry shook his head with a smile. Thor was barely a couple months old and ate the present rate of eating he would be fat in no time at all. Time passed slowly for the next few hours. Harry still found it odd for him to be sitting around on Saturday. Usually, he and his father would try to take a trip into London to do something, like catch a movie or go out to eat.

Terry looked up after Harry sighed, for the ninth time in less than five minutes. "What's wrong, Harry? That has to be eight time you have sighed."

"Ninth," corrected Kevin, moving his knight a space on the chessboard laid out between he and Terry.

Harry shrugged. "I just feel restless. Its Saturday and we're playing chess, woo pee. I just wish there was something more fun to do."

Terry suddenly grinned evilly. "I have an idea."

Harry and Kevin blinked as Terry raced up stairs. He was gone before they even could ask what he was thinking. They looked at each other, each looking at the other questioning. All Kevin could do in answer was shrug dumbly. He was as clueless as Harry was at the moment. Terry returned running back down the stairs, taking two at a time. He hit the bottom running. Terry slid back into his chair barely out of breath. Harry and Kevin turned their gaze on the object the spiky haired youth laid down. A large, clay bowl painted gray sat in front of Terry.

"Ummm, don't you think it's a bit late to be eating cereal," Harry joked.

Terry rolled his eyes. "Ha ha. You asked for something to do and you mock me when I actually try to entertain us."

"Cut the drama," smiled Kevin. "What's with the bowel, Terry?"

Terry smiled, picking up the bowl he cradled it in his hands. "This my friends is a genuine holy relic." His voice got real low and they had to lean in to hear him. "They say this bowl once used to belong to Elios himself then it was lost to him after a great war."

"Elios?" questioned Harry, the name sounding foreign to his ears.

"Elios is the priest of Elysion," answered Terry. "The Holy Land that protects Earth from within. Elysion is a beautiful garden that lies at the heart of the Earth. Elios is the priest and everyday he protects the Earth by banishing dark forces, and praying for salvation."

Kevin raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like a child's tale."

Terry shrugged, taking no offense to the statement. "I'm just quoting the information I got from my mother. She's the one that gave me the bowl and the story. Anyway, remember when I told you guys she was a physic that works at the Ministry." He continued at their nods. "Well, I kind of left out a little add on."

"What might that be?" asked Kevin.

Terry smiled sheepishly. "She passed on her gifts to me. I'm psychic, too. I guess you can say it runs in the family."

"Well fuck me," Harry grinned. "That's cool. I never met anyone with psychic powers. But still what's with the bowel?"

"The bowel is for me to tell your future. I haven't really mastered my powers yet but I'm strongest in water reading. My mum says I'm a rather powerful Water Oracle, considering my age and everything. Before you ask, a Water Oracle is someone who can extend their will into water, using our divining powers we can be blessed with visions of the future, past, or present."

"Aces!" said Kevin grinning. "Let's try it out. Read my future first."

Harry looked around their dormitory feeling a little dumb for agreeing to this. After Terry couldn't get a good reading going, in which he blamed the other students for talking so loudly, they had retreated to the silence of their dorm. The windows were shut and locked and the curtain had been drawn, cutting out the moonlight that had drifted in. The door was locked from the inside. Terry claimed he didn't want their dormmates to disturb his vision by busting in during the middle. So for light they had twelve candles occupying various spots around the room. See, now you could see why Harry felt a little silly.

They sat cross-legged on the floor, the clay bowl filled with water was in front of them. Kevin and Harry sat on either side of him, silent just as he had asked them to be. Terry's head was bowed and his fingers were steeled together, pointer fingers touching his chin. His eyes were closed and his mouth never stopped chanting the same nine syllables over and over, as he lost himself within his mediation.

"Rin-Byo-To-Sha-Kai-Jin-Retsu-Zai-Zen," Terry chanted, clearly and unwavering.

Harry looked down at his watch. It was going on ten o'clock. That meant they had been sitting here for almost an hour. Harry mentally gave Terry five more minutes before he called this whole thing off. Maybe his psychic powers as he called them needed some fine tuning, because this seemed like nothing but a joke. Suddenly, an unseen wind blew through the room. Harry looked at the window, but it was still tightly closed and the latch still was in place. The wind came again, this time harder and the candles started flickering. Seconds passed and the wind became stronger and louder, and despite this Terry continued chanting never wavering in the slightest. His calm control was absolute.

"Oh, my god!" whispered Kevin, looking at Terry in shock.

Harry followed his gaze and gasped. Terry was still sitting there calmly but there was a change. His eyes, which were once closed, were now wide open. They stared into the water never blinking. The strange thing was they were white from edge to edge. A milky white that was nothing but unnatural. No expression was on his face. He seemed inhuman.

Harry hesitantly reached out and laid his hand on Terry's shoulder. "Terry?"

Terry turned to Harry, his eyes still clouded over. A shiver threatened to run up Harry's spine, but he held it down. He met the stare head on, refusing to back down an inch. Finally, Terry visibly shuddered and then he blinked. When his eyes reopened they were no longer milky white, but their normal sky blue. He looked at Harry then at Kevin and they frowned in concern, recognizing the look in his eyes. Horror. Terry had seen something horrifying in the throes of his vision.

"What happened? What did you see?" asked Kevin quickly.

Terry placed a hand on his temple, massaging it slowly to tone down his throbbing headache. "I thought something was wrong at first. Usually, it doesn't take me long to get a vision. I'm really, really, powerful. I'm not bragging. It's the truth. So I kept up my reading when I began to realize why I couldn't get a vision."

"Why?" blurted out Kevin.

"Wait a moment and I'm sure he'll tell us," replied Harry, sending Kevin glare. Terry was still a bit shaken up over whatever he had seen. Rushing him for answers wouldn't solve anything. They just had to be patient.

Kevin apologized, blushing slightly for being rude. "Go on, Terry."

Terry nodded, still massaging his temple. "My vision was being blocked, which is something that shouldn't be possible. No one on Earth has that type of power. Finally, instead of fighting the force or whatever I let it pass through me and I accepted. I gained a vision of a kind I was never expecting. I was in dark forest. I'm pretty sure it was Forbidden Forest, the one that is on the East Side of the school. I was standing in a clearing." He said this in a monotone, his mind going back reliving the vision. "There were unicorns all around me. I could feel their power. Unicorns are the purest creatures on the planet or any realm for that manner. They glowed and radiated in the moonlight. It was so beautiful." Terry's voice grew dark and sad at the same time. "There was a black shape. I think it was man. It walked like one, but it was cloaked so I couldn't tell. But whoever or whatever it was evil."

"You okay?" questioned Harry, rubbing his back.

Terry looked up; his mouth set in a grim line. He rubbed his arms in an unconscious action, as if he was cold. "I'm fine. Its just, I've never felt anything like that before. So much dark power concentrated in one being. It was mind blowing."

"Are you sure you're okay?" asked Kevin, throwing a blanket over Terry's shivering form. The boy was shaking as if it was winter inside the room. In reality it was quite warm.

"I said I'm fine," snapped Terry, making Kevin flinch back. His eyes widened as regret filled him; he looked apologetically at Kevin. "I'm sorry."

"Its alright, mate," Kevin smiling his forgiveness. "You're just shaken up is all."

Terry could only nod mutely at the statement. He knew he was, but they hadn't seen what he had seen. "The dark being he was like a creature of nightmare." He paused fighting off a shudder. "He swooped down on us, the unicorns, I mean with terrifying speed. He killed them." He looked at them with shocked eyes. "He killed them all. Even the youngest ones, the babies."

"Heavens," swore Harry, shaking his head. He looked at Terry feeling empathy for him. "You're going to be fine. All you need is a good nights sleep."

Terry shook his head violently, shaking off the blanket from his shoulders. "No! You don't understand. I can still hear their screams in my head and in my heart. Their screams of my pain still sound out in my soul. This is something that a nights sleep won't fix."

"What can we do to help?" asked Kevin, biting his lip in a habit he only did when anxious or nervous. This situation was probably a mix of both his emotions. His lilac eyes were locked onto his friend's filled only with concern, and a strong amount of determination to help him.

Terry stood up and they stood up with him, not sure what he wanted. He looked at them in the eyes, his gaze serious. "I know who sent me the vision. It was sent from the Powers that Be, the beings of great power that live and guide humanity from a higher plane of reality, an ethereal realm."

"You don't surely believe that," scoffed Kevin, his Scottish accent even more pronounced as he voiced his dismay at the notion. "Next, you'll be talking about angels and aliens being real, too."

Terry glared at him. "My mother has told me that with her line of work, she has seen that anything is possible in this world." His face softened. "I'm not saying that gods and goddesses are real." He muttered "even though they are" inaudibly. "But whoever sent my vision is more powerful than me or you. And they just want me to make things right. In order for my powers to work I was trained and taught to believe in higher powers. If you don't believe in them, just please believe in me."

Harry ran this through his mind. Magic and vampires, unicorns, and wizards, were real so why couldn't higher powers exist. Terry got his extra powers from somewhere, so why not some divine place? Harry paused maybe just maybe he was a believer. "Okay, say I believe you, what then? The Powers sent you the vision but why you? Do they want you to help the unicorns."

Terry smiled a small smile. "It hasn't happened yet, but it will. I was sent the vision to right the wrong. I say we go into the Forbidden Forest to warn the unicorns." He looked at each of them pleadingly. "Please guys, we have to do this. Trust me."

"I'm in," smiled Harry. "If the vision was sent directly to you then I guess you are meant to help them. By default that includes us." Mentally, he was wondering if maybe that was what the Powers wanted. Going into the dark forest was dangerous, but if Harry went along well the chances of surviving were way higher.

Kevin sighed, giving Terry a friendly smile. "Alright I'm in, too."

Terry smiled relief evident on his face. "Thank you."

* * *

It was close to midnight, as the three of them crept through the school with silent steps. They were dressed head to foot in black clothes. Their robes they decided to forego for the night. Harry was wearing a plain pair of black jeans, sweater, and shoes. A long, black duster hid the guns he had hidden on his person. His long hair was in its usual tied back form, and completing his look was a black beanie that fit snuggly on his head. It wasn't a fashion statement. His fucking ears got cold, so it was practical. Terry and Kevin took Harry's advice and dressed similar but they wore their black cloaks and wizards hats, instead of beanie and duster. Its not like they had one anyway so the option wasn't even available to them.

The Firestar 9mm was secured in a shoulder holster that was looped through with his belt, so that way it wouldn't be lose and flying around. Something you didn't want. The Beretta 10mil went into the side pocket of his duster fitting nicely in the big pocket, the black hid the bulging shape it made. Extra clips for both weapons went into special designated pockets. It was best he didn't get those confused, because in crisis you didn't have time to be confused. The mini-Uzi had a modified clip that held thirty rounds, which was more than enough to cut any person in half. It was overkill for any human but Harry didn't know what the hell was in this forest. The mini-Uzi was on a shoulder strap. It had a clip that attached to the back of the pants so it didn't swing around too much, but you could pull it out into the open with one hand.

Harry had armed himself while the others were checking to make sure everyone was either sleep in their dorms or passed out in the common room. They had been gone a long time, so he had more than enough time to arm himself appropriately. His knives of course were secured to their sheaths on his forearms. He regretted not bringing his sword, but he knew that he wasn't that good with it yet. He needed to practice more with it, before actually trying to use it in combat.

Sneaking out of the school was ridiculously easy. All they had to do was avoid Filch, the Caretaker, and that damn cat with the red eyes he called Mrs. Norris. Harry got a sudden chill as they actually neared the edge of the forest. He had experienced it once before and had vowed not to go into its depths, but now was a special circumstance. Idly, he wondered if maybe he was psychic with these senses he was developing, but something inside told him that wasn't the case.

"Okay guys," said Terry as they stood in front of the trees that marked the edge of the forest. "Here we go. You can turn back if you want to."

In answer, Harry and Kevin stepped forward wands out providing light to guide the way. Their steps were heavy as they trudged through the thick snow that littered the forest floor. Which was funny because the grounds outside were only coated with frost and it wasn't actually cold enough for snow to fall. Harry and Kevin just followed Terry, as he was their leader at the moment. With his powers he was sensing the unicorns out. The boy had only explained a bit about his powers. From what they got his powers required a lot of training and discipline to use them like he did. All those times they thought he was zoning off, he was actually meditating he told them.

"They're not too far now," said Terry his eyes closed, and hand extended outward.

They continued forward, Harry and Kevin providing light and Terry being their human compass. Harry kept his eyes and ears open, looking and listening for anything trying to sneak up on them. If Terry was right then there was a being of unimaginable evil preying in these woods. Finally, the woods seemed to open up and they stepped into a circular clearing. Unicorns all glowing silver under the light of the moon, frolicked everywhere on the green lawn. Where there was snow covering the forest floor, the clearing was perfectly green. There were even a few flowers in full bloom covering the lush, green grass. It was beautiful. There were no other words for it. Well, magical could have fit too if you wanted to get _technical._

The unicorns tensed up once they noticed the three boys standing at the edge of the clearing. It was like time froze and they were stuck. No one moved. The only sounds that could be heard was their own breathing. Terry walked forward hands up in the universal sign for _I'm unarmed, please don't hurt me_. Hesitantly and slowly he approached the glowing creatures. Harry had pocketed his wand, wanting to keep his hands free just in case the creature from Terry's vision decided to pull a Houdini, and appear from nowhere. A majestic looking unicorn with a long, gleaming horn, broke free from the herd and approached Terry. They met in the middle of the clearing. Cautiously, Terry placed his hand against the creature's brow, near where the horn protruded. Harry watched confused as both, unicorn and Terry, closed their eyes in unison. Then after a minute passed, they broke the whatever it was.

"Go please," said softly Terry, pleading with every ounce of his soul.

The unicorn neighed softly then it looked at the others in the herd. It neighed louder and quickly they galloped out of the clearing, as if they had been shouted at. They soon became lost in the dark shadows of the trees. The leader looked back at Terry and it bowed its head, as if thanking him, then it too galloped off into the trees.

"I'm thinking Mission Accomplished," Kevin smirked.

Harry snorted. "We're not out of here yet."

They agreed and turning back they began to walk back they came. Terry explained a bit about the touching thing he did with the unicorn. It was sort of like a mind meld, but with auras or some shit. Harry wasn't into that new age stuff so it wasn't like he even cared. Right now his main priority was getting out of this damn forest. It was seriously starting to give him the creeps. Kevin stopped suddenly. His head cocked to the side and his entire face was scrunched up in deep thought.

"Shhh," he said softly, placing his finger to his lips.

Harry was about to say he didn't hear anything then suddenly he did. The sound of a twig snapping, which in reality wasn't loud, was practically booming in the eerily quiet forest. Harry pocketed his wand and with one hand he gripped the mini-Uzi hanging from his back. Without even trying he went to that calm place inside of him. That place in his mind where nothing registered but keeping himself alive. Instantly, his face went slack as whatever tied him to his emotions severed and became disconnected. Everything became clearer. His hearing and eyesight sharpened. His heart, which had been thudding loudly in his throat, was now a calm steady beat. Never wavering.

"Show time," Harry whispered.

Suddenly, from the bush exploded a dark shape. Faster than he could blink it crossed the meters separating them. Terry raised his wand a spell on the tip of his tongue. The figure slapped Terry as he sped past him. The boy went flying backward landing roughly a meter away. The figure didn't so much as pause as it jumped forward with speed that didn't really seem possible for his height and build. It slammed Kevin into the ground with a shoulder-check, and sped past him to grab Harry by the throat. Its momentum carried them back into a tall oak tree. Harry let out a muffled yell as he felt his back explode from the impact. White stars exploded behind his eyes. Throughout the haze, Harry glared at the figure. Now that it wasn't moving so fast, he could make it out. The skin was pale, yellowish-white. The skin clung to the bones of his face like wax that had half-melted. Its eyes weren't decayed but they stared at Harry with a hunger/insane glint. Its jaw was barely hanging on. Only thin strips of flesh kept it from entirely falling off.

"You are so ugly," Harry whispered, his voice coming out in a rasp. He kicked with all his might, catching the creature in the gut. It fell backward. Not winded because it didn't breathe but the impact had obviously just shocked it.

Without a thought Harry ran to split the distance between them. He grabbed Terry by the hand hauling him up, ignoring the screaming pain of his back. Kevin got up on his own, regarding the thing with a recognizable gleam shining in his eye.

"Terry is this the thing in your vision?" asked Kevin quickly, watching cautiously as the creature slowly recovered.

Terry shook his head. "No, this is something else."

"It's a fucking zombie that's what it is!" screamed Kevin jumping out of the way, as the zombie came charging toward them.

Harry swung the Uzi into his left hand. Harry remembered to aim low and letting out a controlled breath he fired. He almost stumbled backward as the machine gun kicked to life. The zombie jerked back, body flaying like electrocuted animal, as the spray of bullets caught it in its gut. It soared back landing hard on its ass. Harry stopped the spray of bullets and his screaming. He hadn't even realized he had been screaming because it wasn't heard over the noise of the machine gun.

Terry and Kevin stared…

The zombie jumped back to its feet and ran at Harry as if it wasn't even hurt. Harry fired the Uzi again but the zombie ducked under the spray as if Harry was merely shooting water at it. The monster smashed into Harry. The momentum took them backward into a bush. Harry felt as knives had been stabbed into his back as he once again was slammed back on it. Harry's mouth set in a thin line as the zombie snapped its decaying mouth at the beating pulse of his neck. Suddenly, the zombie was flying backward. Harry looked up to see Kevin single handedly throw the zombie into a tree. Breathing hard, the blond looked at Harry with so many emotions he couldn't even begin to read him. The zombie couldn't feel pain, since hello it was dead, and before they knew it the thing was running toward them again.

Harry retrieved the Beretta from his pocket. Holding it securely, Harry sighted down his arm and fired point blank into the zombie's skull. It jerked back like a broken-back snake. Harry fired again and again till there was nothing left of its face except a bloody stump. It was grotesque. Still despite this the zombie continued on. Harry clicked empty. He went to a knee and withdrew the Firestar. The zombie was moving much more slowly now almost lethargically. On the sixth or seventh shot the zombie collapsed to its knees.

Harry clicked empty and dropped the Firestar. With quick movements he pulled out his knives. He saw nothing but the zombie before him and his mind was telling him that it still was a threat. He didn't even think as he stabbed his knife into the creature's sternum, feeling the bone crack and break easily at the applied strength behind the blow. Black blood oozed against his hand. Cold and thick, smelling almost like spoiled meat. Harry sliced up, then with a quickened slash he brought the knife down. The small intestine spilled out like an uncoiled bloody snake, dropping unto the ground. The zombie fell back, its eyes rolling into its head. Its body spasm and shook in convulsions.

"Die dammit!" Harry yelled, slitting its throat with the knife

Blood gurgled up, bubbling and spurting. Finally, the zombie's entire body stilled and it just lost what little life it held. Breathing deep, Harry slowly brought his head up. _Somehow_ his hair had fallen out of its customary look. Now his hair curtained around his face and some of it stuck to his left cheek, which was coated with blood. Leaves and twigs stuck in his hair and dirt covered an entire side of his face. Slowly, he turned to face his friends, his feelings returning as he left that spot in his mind. He felt regret, sadness, shame, anger, frustration, and sorrow all at once. The sorrow was for the friends that would surely shun him now that they had seen what a killer he could be.

Kevin and Terry stared. Terry sported a bloodied lip and he was favoring his left leg, since he had fallen pretty hard. Kevin had a long gash running from his eyebrow to his chin. Both looked as if they had gotten into a fight with the ground and lost.

Terry gazed at Harry with new eyes. "Harry, I think you have some explaining to do."

All Kevin could do was nod mutely as he stared at Harry, shocked beyond belief.

Harry looked at the zombie, which was only a bloody mass. There was barely anything that distinguished it as being once human. Except the limbs that were still attached. Harry bit his lip staring at the body. One of his knives was still sticking up out of its chest.

He cringed, staring at the sight. _Oops_.

* * *

Someone asked why everyone still calls him Potter instead of McKnight. Well, when Pam Anderson married Tommy Lee we didn't call her Pam Lee or Pam Anderson Lee. 


	12. The Truth Unfolds like Flowers

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter either. It belongs to its creator J.K. Rowling and probably Warner Bros. too. I'm not too sure about that. This piece of literature is simply the work of a humble fan. I also credit Laurell K. Hamilton for various themes, subjects, or references that I may use. It won't be a crossover but certain elements from the series will be used.

* * *

:Author Notes:

This will be leaning more toward alternate reality. It will have the same characters just a different spin on things. If you're not a fan or strong cursing or maybe even violence and bloodshed then there is a good chance that this story isn't for you.

* * *

"We spend our whole life trying to figure out the truth and the only way we'll find out what it is, is to get hit by a bus." John Ryman, _When Galaxies Collide_

Potter

Chapter Eleven: The Truth Unfolds like Flowers

By: Water Mage

The march back up to the castle was silent. The boys' were each lost in their own thoughts. Harry pretended to ignore the side-glances they kept shooting him. They too did the same when he shot them hesitant stares. For one of the safest places on Earth to be, Hogwarts was damn easy to sneak in and out of. It was simply laughable at how easily they crept down the halls to the Ravenclaw dorms. They entered their dormitory, pausing in their steps waiting for the telltale signs of snoring. They had to be sure that the others were asleep. When they heard the sounds, they continued to their beds. As they stripped down and changed into their pajamas they still continued sneaking looks at each other. When Harry kneeled before his trunk and began to pack up his guns and daggers they openly stared this time. They stilled all movement, watching as he pulled weapon after weapon from locations that they never would have thought of.

Harry looked up though his dirty, disarrayed hair. "Listen, I'm tired. I'm going to take a shower and then I'm going to bed. Explanations can wait until the morning," he whispered quietly.

"I can't wait to hear what you have say," replied Terry sarcastically, his voice coming out weird because of his split lip. It was puffy and swollen near the corner. He was still leaning on to his right, favoring his left leg. Harry's eyes flicked down to Terry's bare ankle. It was swollen but not as bad as his lip.

Kevin just sighed and sunk under the comforter of his bed. His lilac eyes stared into Harry's green eyes for a brief moment before they flickered away to stare at the ceiling. Even from here, Harry could see the long cut that covered his face, going from his eyebrow to chin. Matter of fact they all had some of injury or wound that would need healing. Harry sighed. That would have to wait until tomorrow, too, after the much-needed explanation. Heaven knows what excuse they would give Madam Pomfrey.

An hour later, Harry returned to the room, freshly showered and ready for bed. It took almost thirty minutes and three applications of shampoo and conditioner, before all the dirt and crap was gone from his hair. Harry padded into the dorm room dressed in a pair of blue sweat shorts and a black tank top. The top layer of skin on his left cheek and chin was gone. Tomorrow he would have a lovely scab that would hurt like a bitch until he got it healed. His back was scrapped up badly also from the impact against the tree, and the fall onto the ground. Every time he moved his back would protest in pain. Even the lightest of footsteps felt like burning pain.

When he crawled into bed, careful to lye on his stomach, he immediately fell fast asleep as soon as his head hit the downy, soft pillow.

Sunlight drifted in through the curtained windows, throwing golden rays of sunshine onto the stone floor of the First Year Ravenclaw dormitory. Three of the beds were empty with their comforters thrown asunder, and their occupants no longer in the room. Harry awoke as the sunlight splashed onto his face, making him see spots behind his closed eyelids. With a yawn, he cracked open his eyes sitting up with a low hiss of pain. His back still felt like shit. He touched a hand to his cheek and winced at the sensitive skin, that was forming a rough scab.

He looked around and spotted Kevin and Terry in various stages of activity. Terry was putting on clothes and Kevin was just getting out of bed, moving a tad bit faster than Harry was. The other boys must have let them sleep in, since it was after all a Sunday. Yawning, Harry swung his legs around so that he was sitting on the bed edge. The atmosphere in the room was tense. He could practically cut a knife through the tension that filled the circular room. Taking a deep breath, Harry decided it was best that they get this over with instead of dragging it out with silly silence.

"I'm guessing this is where we _talk,_" said Harry quietly, but they heard him despite the volume.

Terry rounded on him, blue eyes flashing with so many emotions. "What the fuck was that last night, Harry? Can you explain to me, where in the Powers name did you get guns! What…" he stopped shaking his head with a lost look.

Harry looked at Terry. For the first time he noticed that his hair was out of its customary spikes. The gel free tresses lay across his brow in soft, black waves. Harry noticed that in his left hand was clenched his cross that he usually wore around his neck. The long, metallic chain dangled down from his hand like a hanging chord.

"I don't know where to start," began Harry truthfully, wondering where was he supposed to start. He had no idea what he was going to tell them. The truth or a half-truth. Which one did he want to give? Which lie would they believe without fuss? Or would the truth be easier for all of them? Decisions, decisions.

Kevin snorted. "How about the guns?"

He stared at Harry with his lilac eyes. Harry almost shivered at the look directed at him. It was guarded and cold at the same time. Almost like he was dissecting Harry and ready to pounce if he heard the wrong information. Harry's eyes flickered to Terry, seeing that his face, too, was guarded, revealing nothing. Harry snarled mentally. If this was how they wanted to play it, he thought. Then he could do mind games also. They didn't know he was better at it though.

He was the fucking prince of mind fuck.

Harry's face was a stone mask of stoicism as he stared at the two. "The guns are from my father."

"Why would your Dad give you guns?" questioned Kevin slowly, as if he was having trouble even asking.

"He wanted me to be safe," replied Harry shortly, not giving more information. They didn't ask so he wasn't going to tell. If they wanted to interrogate him like some fucking criminal then he would act like one. Screw them.

Terry narrowed his eyes. "We really don't know much about your father. Who is he and who are you really?"

Kevin stared at Harry his eyes still hard and cold. "Don't lie to us either." It wasn't spoken harshly, but the matter of fact tone, set Harry on edge. He didn't like to be cornered. Soon, he would act like a lion in the same situation and attack back. "I can tell if you're lying. Trust me. The truth would be in your best interest."

"My father is Killian Eric McKnight, CEO of the law firm McKnight and Steel…" He drifted off, giving Kevin a condescending smile.

Kevin glared at him and Harry raised an eyebrow. Maybe he _could_ read lies, Harry thought. Oh yeah, when he was done, Kevin would get interrogated just as he was. Staring as best he could into both Kevin and Terry's eyes, he continued. They wanted the truth, and he would tell them the truth. If they couldn't handle it then… well, measures would be taken to ensure they're silence.

"_Also_, my father's the Master of London and leader of the Empire," he didn't stop there, but continued on. Terry did ask who _he_ was, too. "I am Harold James Duncan Potter-McKnight, son of _Death_, first born of the Chosen Descendents… Little Lord of London… Emerald eyes of Heaven… the Boy Who Lived… Heir to the Empire."

"Wha…" began Terry opening his mouth, then closing it twice.

"Any questions?" Harry smirked at the confused and taken back expressions. He had spoken each title slowly and clearly adding power behind each word. Even if they didn't know what any of it meant, they could tell it was important.

Kevin tried to talk but it took him three times before he could. "What does that mean? What's the Empire? Is this some type of trick? What the hell is going on?"

"The Empire is the worlds largest most powerful crime organization. It's made of many different factions that are all brought together to serve one higher person. That person is my father," said Harry. He could have gone into detail about the Empire, but the less they knew the better.

Frowning, Terry sat down with a heavy plop on the edge of his bed. "So your dad is some type of crime boss?" he asked staring straight at Harry with disbelieving eyes.

"Basically, in a nutshell," said Harry nodding. "When I get older the throne goes to me."

Kevin bit his lip thinking. "It does all make sense now. How paranoid you are, all the time. The sword almost cutting my head off, when I tried to wake you on our first day. That look of death you gave Snape our first day in Potions, and that temper, too. You practically scream, son of a badass don't fuck with me. By Cassiel's Star, it all fits!" He gave Harry a disappointed look. "Why didn't you tell us, mate?"

Harry shrugged. "It's a secret," he replied, then stopped, pausing. He looked at Terry and said, "I guess for the same reason that Terry didn't tell us about his physic powers." Terry looked down ashamed. Harry then turned to Kevin again, not letting the topic drop. "And for the same reason you didn't tell us you weren't human."

Kevin's jaw completely dropped and he paled noticeably. "How did you know?" he asked shakily, lilac eyes as wide as saucers.

Terry snapped his head back and forth between them. "Harry, what are you talking about? Kevin _is_ human."

Harry shook his head not breaking eye contact with Kevin. Since last night after he had seen Kevin throw the zombie like a pillow, his eyes had been opened. Right now, his senses were caressing Kevin, seeing through to the real image that others couldn't see. Just like with Dumbledore, Harry could see a secondary image overlapping Kevin's usual appearance. The new image was otherworldly. It was Kevin despite the vast differences. His skin seemed to take on a shine to it, making him look like a glowing, ethereal being. His eyes normally lilac, were now startling so, they glowed on his face, resembling liquid fire. His hair seemed shinier, too, for it fell around his head like a golden halo that made Harry want to just reach out and touch it, that's how beautiful it looked.

"How?" Kevin repeated in quiet voice.

Harry took note of the pointed, canine teeth he could now see. They were so sharp and pointed that they would be called fangs. "I can see things. Seeing through your glamour or whatever the hell is disguising your real self, is one of those things. Although, I didn't see through it until tonight."

"Wait, first, huh," said Terry confused and frustrated. "Second, Harry, you can See the Unseen? Why didn't you ever tell us you have Blessed Sight?"

Harry blinked, raising both eyebrows in surprise. "There is a name for what I can do?" he asked surprised. "It just recently started appearing when I got to Hogwarts. I didn't even know what it was called until just now."

Terry nodded. "Blessed Sight is pretty uncommon. Usually, only clerics and those who worship certain deities are gifted with the Sight. People with the Sight can see things others cannot, like glamours, spirits, and invisible people… I'll tell my mother to send you information about it over Yule."

Kevin tried to smile but failed miserably. "So you know what I am now, eh?"

Harry nodded. "Vampire. You're a vampire."

"Holy Saints!" yelled Terry shooting up from his bed. His arm shot out holding his cross at bay, glaring darkly at Kevin, who was staring at him sadly. "Harry, why didn't you say anything! We've actually been rooming with one of the creatures of Hell!" He glared at Kevin, his cross-held steady. "By the power of Christ go back into the Pit, demon!"

"Terry!" shouted Harry, darting between the two boys. He stared at him hard. "Stop it, Terry. Let's hear him out! Put the cross down. How can you be waving that cross around anyway like your some devout Catholic? You said yourself just yesterday that you believe in deities called the Powers that Be, and magical priests that pray at the center of the world. Your faith cant be that rigid if you're not entirely all One God believing."

Terry shook his head stubbornly. "Yahweh is not the only god in the universe, though he certainly aids in the fight against evil," he replied not taking his eyes off of Kevin, who sitting with his knees drawn to his chest, staring forlornly at the ground.

He looked like any other sad child like that, with his pajamas on and face washed in sadness. Harry raised an eyebrow at the explanation Terry was giving him. He had a feeling that this was not common theology taught at Church.

"Yahweh is one of the Elder Gods of the universe. Others such as Zeus or even Chaos are but High Gods. Yahweh is of Ascendancy even above the beings called the Powers that Be. He was here before the universe. The blood sacrifice of his only living son created an invaluable tool for the warriors who fight for the light." Terry recited all of this in a tone of voice that belied the impression he had explained this many times before, because he said all of this without taking his cross or eyes away from Kevin.

Harry sighed. "Terry, I really don't give a flying fuck right now. Just put the cross down and we can talk this over. You waving your cross around is going to get us nowhere. Be sensible and stop this bullshit, now."

Terry's eyes left Kevin and the blue orbs bored into Harry's own green eyes. They stared for a half a minute till finally Terry lowered his arm holding the cross. He nodded curtly. Spinning on his heel, he did an about face. Plopping down on his bed, he turned his gaze to Kevin giving him his full attention. His arms were crossed as he stared the blond down. Harry sighed looking back and forth between them. This is going to be a long day, he thought, returning to his bed. Kevin in only his pajamas, of black cotton looked up from the floor. His expression was still saddened as he gazed at them. Finally, he began to talk, after surveying them for a moment or two of silence.

"I am a vampire. Harry is right," he began in a quiet voice. "Let me try to explain some things to you. You see there are three types of vampire species. They're known as vampires of demon, soul, and bite. Each species has different traits, powers, and qualities. The vampires of demon have no soul and are possessed by demonic beings. They have no inhibitions, conscious, or morals. The vampires of bite have no soul, but are not possessed by demonic entities," he paused to take a breather. He looked at both of them and saw that both boys were in fact riveted to his tale. "They are just empty inside, but they do feel emotions. These vampires are stronger than the demon vampires. The last are vampires are soul. They are the most powerful of the vampire species. They have a soul and are human in terms of emotions and thought, but they're powers are stronger than any of the vampire species. They can do many things the other two cannot do."

"Which one are you?" asked Harry, completely entranced by the story.

Kevin sighed. "I'm a vampire of soul… but I'm different. As soul vampires age, we grow stronger, and it wasn't till the last hundred years that my particular species gained enough strength to walk in the sun. We have become what the other two vampires like to call Daywalkers. Where they burn in the sun, we walk. Crosses, garlic, prayer, none of that works on my species that is why we are the most powerful of the vampire nation."

"So when you threw the zombie off me last night that was vampire strength, right?" asked Harry. At Kevin's nod he continued. "What other powers do you have?"

Kevin held up his hand to count. "Well my species can levitate or fly, are telepathic, super strong, super fast, and as we age we get stronger."

"How old are you?" questioned Terry in a civil tone. It wasn't friendly but it was a start from the cold tone of earlier. "Are you really like one hundred? You guys _are_ immortal."

Kevin shook his head a small smile tugging at his lips. "I wasn't lying when I said I was pureblood. Both of my parents are vampires, however not wizards, and I was born a vampire. They too were born vampires; our whole family dating back centuries, are vampires. That means until I reach the age of twenty-one I will age normally then completely stop aging. So I really am eleven years old."

Terry stood up, looking at both of them, he shook his head. "Listen, I'm going to need some time. This… this all is too much right now." He walked briskly to the door, opening it halfway he stopped then turned back to them. His eyes were sad as he stared at them. "Sorry, guys. I…" He swallowed, cutting off what he was about to say, turning back he walked out of the dorm leaving them sitting there.

Harry looked at Kevin, who was still pale and looking like a victim of a traumatic incident, then at the door that Terry just left from. Harry did nothing but let out a deep sigh, as he watched Thor sleep contentedly at the foot of the bed, unaware of the shocking events that had just taken place.

_Well, _Harry thought. _That went better than I thought it would._

* * *

The dungeons were cold, colder than usual. That was expected though, since the school dungeons were always cooler than the rest of the school, and with it being winter it was especially cold. Harry rubbed his hands together, the friction warming his chilled fingers only slightly. Steam filled the large room coming from the dozens of simmering cauldrons boiling on the long worktables. The Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students barely talked throughout their potion brewing. After all they were in Professor Snape's class, and doing something like talking was something he would take joy in deducting points for. Kevin and Harry stood over their steaming cauldron, carefully watching the potion stay a constant clear color. If it so much as turned anything besides clear, then their potion would be a failure. Harry looked to the table in front of them. Terry was working with Anthony Goldstein, and their backs were to them.

"I wonder how long he plans to keep this silence thing going?" whispered Harry to himself under his breath.

Kevin shrugged, stirring the potion counterclockwise, never letting the liquid settle. "This is what I was afraid of. I didn't want to lose you as friends."

Harry turned to him in surprise. Remembering to keep his voice low, he whispered, "You heard that. I barely said it loud enough for myself to even hear."

Kevin grinned, but it didn't fully reach his eyes. "Super hearing, too."

Harry shook his head an amazed look painting his face. Kevin being a vampire seemed so unreal. He knew vampires were real. They had explained that to him months ago, but to actually find out one of your best friends is a creature of the night, is something that takes getting used to. Harry looked up to the board to reread the ingredients listed for potion. His eyes accidentally caught Professor Snape's, and he sighed mentally at the glare that the man shot him. Harry refused to flinch. However, intimidating Snape appeared to be he just wasn't to Harry. He had after all been glared at by the best.

"Potter-McKnight, pay attention to your potion!" Snape snapped.

Harry rolled his eyes and merely sighed at five-point deduction the action caused him. He returned his attention to the potion, carefully shredding and cutting the ingredients then putting the ingredients into the potion. An hour later, time came to an end and it was time to bottle and cap their potions. Harry groaned inaudibly as Snape glided toward him and Kevin's station. Idly, Harry wondered if this man himself was a vampire, because he could swear the man made no noise at all when he moved. As if sensing what he was thinking, Snape smirked darkly at Harry as he came to a halt before them.

"Potter-McKnight and Entwhistle let's see if you have managed to use that famous Ravenclaw wit to successfully brew this potion," Snape said loudly, his sneer making his face seem hateful and not at all friendly toward them.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "It looks right to me, sir," he replied smartly. He was positive that the potion was correct. They had spent the entire class making sure that all the steps to brewing the potion were followed to the letter. If something was wrong then it wasn't their fault. They did everything correctly, and were sure it was perfect.

_Does he really have to smirk while he's stirring, _Harry thought. _My god, what is with this guy? What the fork is his problem?_

Snape raised the ladle filled with liquid then turned it over, letting the potion splatter back into the cauldron. Harry narrowed his eyes getting a sneaky suspicion in the back of his mind. Snape's expression seemed to get even darker and his eyes seemed to fill with maleficent glee as he stared at Harry.

"My, my, my," he said slowly, his deep blue eyes boring into Harry's emerald green ones. "It looks like that Ravenclaw wit eludes you Potter. The consistency of your potion is too thick. You fail."

"What the fuc--OW!" Harry yelled as Kevin stomped on his foot, cutting off the rest of his outburst. He bent over in reflex, and bit his lip preventing the howl that threatened to spill from his mouth. His back screamed in pain at being jarred. Actually it hurt to move still, but if he did it slowly then not so bad. Suddenly bending over was definitely not considered a slow movement. It hurt like hell.

Kevin looked at Professor Snape, and said pleadingly and respectfully, "Sir, our potion is brewed perfectly. I really think that--"

"Fail," sneered-smiled Snape, daring him with a look to continue.

The rest of the class mumbled protest but none dared to challenge Snape. Harry opened his mouth to utter some of the worst swear words ever to be heard in the hallowed dungeons of Hogwarts… but someone beat him to it. He, along with everyone else, snapped their heads around to gasp at the voice.

"That is fucking bullshit!"

Terry stood at the workbench in front of them, arms crossed over his chest, blue eyes trained on Snape. A classical defensive stance if there ever was one. Kevin and Harry stared at him in amazement. His eyes met their briefly and he nodded subtly.

Snape slowly faced Terry, his body seeming to grow taller and even more menacing before their eyes. "Excuse me?" he asked coldly in that deceptively soft voice of his.

"You heard me," Terry replied boldly. "Their potion is right and you know it. If that wand wasn't shoved so far up your ass, you would see so yourself."

Deathly silence, no one dared to move or even breathe.

Snape's nostrils flared as blood rushed from his neck, turning his pale face a dark pinkish color. With controlled breathing he glared icily at Terry. "Detention, Boot. From now until the rest of the school year." He looked around at the class his eyes flashing. "Get out of here. All of you, OUT!"

They didn't have to be told twice. No one wanted to stay in the class longer than necessary. Their gathering of bags and books, and packing of cauldrons, was a hurried rushing of hustling and bustling. Everyone kept their heads down, no words passing between anyone. Harry packed his books in his bag, trying very hard not to let a smile bloom on his face. He was almost sure that he was bleeding inside his mouth now, since he was biting his tongue so hard to keep from bursting out laughing. Faster than they had ever before, the two houses began to file out of the room.

"Bye Professor," Harry called sing song, as he exited the room, giving a little wave as he went.

Terry limped slightly in step beside Harry and Kevin. His ankle was still not so good, so putting lots of weight on it was not an option. None of them so much as spoke as they raced to the stairs that led to the first floor. Once their feet hit the top stair, and they felt the change in temperature that signified that they were out of hell, or the dungeons, they started to laugh. Their laughter came long and hard. Harry was leaning against the wall, his feet almost coming out from under him. They tried to stop, but every time they glanced at each other new waves of laughter would hit them. It had to be almost a full three minutes later before they regained enough bearing to stop laughing. Wiping the tear from his eye, Harry smiled at Terry and Kevin.

"So, I see you had a change of heart," said Harry grinning at Terry.

Terry shrugged. "Hey, I couldn't let that slimy bastard talk to my best friends any old kind of way." Terry looked at Kevin. "Kevin, I…"

"Its fine, man," said Kevin, waving the intended apology off. "Don't worry about it. I'm just glad we're friends again."

Terry shook his head stubbornly. "No, I can't just let it go like that. I'm sorry, Kevin. I acted like a real git with the way I treated you. I was being a poncey berk and you know it and I apologize." He extended his hand, smiling warmly. "Friends?"

Kevin grasped the hand giving it a good shake, and smiling he replied, "Friends."

Harry grinned slyly. "Sorry mates, but can we go. The after school special is really not my thing."

"You're such a great friend, Harry," Terry replied dryly. They began to walk down the corridor toward Defense Against the Dark Arts. The hallways were empty since they had been dismissed from class early. The rest of the student body was still in lessons. "Soo," began Terry, letting the so roll nice and long off his tongue. He turned to Kevin. "If I were to give you some blood, how much would you charge me?"

They stopped walking pausing in their tracks. Harry and Kevin stared at him incredulously.

"What?" asked Terry shrugging, confused. "I figure if I'm a happy meal on legs then I might as well make some money off it. Oh! Maybe we can even open a restaurant for vampires," he said smiling widely. He extended his arms wide, looking extremely goofy and foolish simultaneously. "We can call it McPlasmas!"

Harry shook his head. If Terry was up to joking about Kevin being a vampire then his attitude had definitely changed since the event of earlier. Harry snorted. No matter how dumb it sounded, it was kind of funny if you thought about it. _McPlasmas__, what the fuck_, Harry thought laughing internally. _Today is defiantly looking up, if you discount the major bruising on my back._

"Guys," said Harry, getting their attention. Since we're out of class so early, we might as well go by the infirmary to get healed up. My fucking back is still killing me."

Kevin gasped. "Oh yeah, you guys still are hurt aren't you?"

Terry eyed Kevin's cheek that last night had a long gash going from eyebrow to chin. Now it was perfectly fine and not even a tiny scar marred his unblemished skin. He touched a finger to Kevin's cheek, running his finger down the smooth skin. "Vampire healing must come in handy."

"What can I say, it's a perk," half smiled Kevin.

Harry sighed and said, "I'm going to the infirmary. You guys can continue your little Power Rangers skit but I need to get healed."

Terry threw up his hands pretending to be scared. "Please don't cut me, little lord, sir," he said in a high falsetto.

"We'll do anything you want, Mr. Mob Boss Guy Jr," added Kevin in his best don't hurt me voice.

"Ha ha," laughed Harry sarcastically. Inwardly, he was smiling. _If they can joke about it then I guess that they're not that freaked. When I really explain I wonder if they'll still be my friend when they learn that I've killed humans before._ Harry looked to his friends, as they walked up the moving staircase to the Hospital Wing. They laughed and giggled as they cracked jokes at one another.

_I guess time can only tell._


	13. Glory, Glory, Hallelujah

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter either. It belongs to its creator J.K. Rowling and probably Warner Bros. too. I'm not too sure about that. This piece of literature is simply the work of a humble fan. I also credit Laurell K. Hamilton for various themes, subjects, or references that I may use. It won't be a crossover but certain elements from the series will be used.

* * *

:Author Notes:

This will be leaning more toward alternate reality. It will have the same characters just a different spin on things. If you're not a fan or strong cursing or maybe even violence and bloodshed then there is a good chance that this story isn't for you.

* * *

"Buffy: "So Maggie sends me down to the sewers, with one of those blasto-guns, and the next thing I know, it's raining monsters. Xander: "Hallelujah." Buffy the Vampire Slayer, _Goodbye Iowa_

Potter

Chapter Twelve: Glory, Glory, Hallelujah

By: Water Mage

Harry pulled his beanie down further on his head, covering his freezing ears. With a frown he looked at the snow covered grounds of Hogsmeade Station. Students bustled this way and that way, trying to hurry and find a compartment on the scarlet train, parked on the tracks. Harry looked up into the cloudy sky that hid the sun. He really hated snow. What was the big deal about it? It was cold and wet, joy, so let's go and play in it. Harry's blue jeans and black polo went well with the equally black beanie. His white nikes with black swooshes completed his look. Beside him Terry and Kevin were both wearing jeans also. Terry had on red collared shirt and Kevin wore a blue sweater. Shivering, Harry tugged his leather jacket tighter on him. It was just too damn cold for him.

"Excuse us, excuse us, move the fuck out of the way!" Terry snapped, moving past people loitering around the door of the train.

Harry hid a grin, smiling at their affronted looks, as they climbed onto the train. They found an empty compartment near the back of the train. Breathing hard, Harry lugged his heavy trunk behind him. Terry was in the same boat, as they both strained to move their trunks onto the storage area at the top of the compartment. Kevin stood near the window, his expression amused as he watch them struggle like two fat kids trying to climb fifty flight of stairs. Leaning casually against the window, arms crossed and expression haughty, he cleared his throat to get their attention. With pronounced movements, Kevin pointed up at his trunk stowed neatly away. They gaped at him then rolled their eyes.

"Super strength, remember," Kevin reminded them with a smirk.

Harry sighed then said mockingly, "Super strength, remember." He glared. "You could have reminded us five minutes ago."

Kevin laughed and with easy movements he picked up both trunks, stowing them away next to his. Harry shook his head. He still wasn't used to that. It had been less than a month since the revelation day, as he had dubbed it in his mind, and he still got surprised. Terry, he had come to find out, had amazing powers that he had initially tried to downplay. As a water oracle he had a strong affinity for water and everything associated with it. With lots of concentration he could manipulate water to his will, and even freeze it with a thought. But he had to concentrate very hard to do it. According to Terry, he had to train more at his gifts before he could do anything without massive amounts of concentration. Harry bit his lip, as he sat down near the window. By the time they were adults the three of them would each be very powerful in their own right.

"A knut for your thoughts, mate," said Kevin, breaking Harry from his thoughts. He waved his hand in front of Harry's face, making the other boy blink his eyes rapidly, as they suddenly came into focus. "What are you thinking about, Harry?"

Harry shrugged. "Just thinking about us," he replied honestly.

Terry grinned, looking at him slyly. "Harry, no offense, but your not my type. Now Kevin on the other hand—" he laughed lightly as Kevin gave him the finger in answer.

"Your mind is always in the gutter, git," smiled Harry. "I was thinking about our different _gifts_. When you get training you will actually be the most powerful Water Oracle on the planet."

Terry shook his head, cheeks flushing in embarrassment. "Oh, I don't know about that, Harry."

Kevin nodded. His face was scrunched in thought. "You said yourself that your mum told you that you were a pretty powerful Water Oracle, considering your age and everything. So it stands to make sense that when you have more training you will be even more powerful."

Harry agreed with a nod, then looking at Kevin, he said, "And you Kevin, you said that your species get stronger as you age—Right?" Kevin voiced his agreement slowly, not getting what he was hinting at. "Already, you are pretty strong. Look how easily you lifted those trunks and threw that zombie."

"But I still don't know what you're getting at," admitted Kevin. "I still haven't showed any signs of the rest of my powers. They might come when I'm 200 or even 500."

Harry smirked. Subtly, he removed one of his knives stationed to his wrist sheaths. With quick movements, he launched the knife threw the air, directly at Kevin. For Kevin time seemed to slow down. He saw the knife coming toward him and he reacted instinctively. His hand came up and plucked the knife from the air then without even thinking about it, his hand moved on its own, throwing the blade back at its owner. Harry and Kevin saw something entirely different, however. They saw the knife speed through air. Kevin's arm seemed to be a blur as he caught the knife an inch away from his face. Then without warning the knife was back in the air, speeding toward Harry. The knife landed, tip first, in the wall, not eight inches from Harry's head.

Harry looked at the knife then toward Kevin, who was staring stunned, and said slowly, "Like I said, powerful."

Terry ran a shaking hand through his dark hair, messing up his spikes in the process. "That was stupid, Harry! What would you have done if he had hit you?"

Harry shook his head. "I would have moved out of the way if it was actually on course. Plus, I knew Kevin wouldn't hit me. We're friends," he replied smugly, jarring his knife from the wall and sliding it back into its place on his wrist sheath.

Kevin gulped, still staring, and said mutely. "I missed."

They spent most of the train ride with Harry patiently explaining to them the correct way to throw a knife. Hermione had shown up mid way through the explanation, and the topic had been quickly changed.

"Hey, Harry. Guys," greeted Riley, entering the compartment shortly after Hermione. She plopped down in the seat next to Harry.

"Are you coming over sometime during break, Riley?" asked Harry, turning to the older girl.

She nodded, saying, "Yeah, I think so."

Terry scooted closer to Riley, closing the distance between them. "So," he began making it sound nice and long. "Have you thought of my offer?"

Riley looked down her nose at him. "What offer, Terry?" she asked, sounding annoyed and bored at the same time.

"The one with you becoming my girlfriend."

One second Terry was leering up at Riley, the next he was kissing floor. A weak ow left his lips as he rolled onto his back, staring up at them with dazed eyes. He turned his gaze onto Riley looking at her with a playful smirk. "So, I'm thinking you like it rough."

Riley shook her head. "What are they feeding you at home? Are they slipping hormone pills into your Captain Crunch?"

Terry shrugged, still lying on the ground. "What can I say; my older brother taught me everything he knows."

Hazel eyes glared at him, as Riley through gritted teeth replied, "You say that like it's a good thing."

Finally, it was late afternoon and the sun was setting in the sky, when they made it to Kings Cross Station. The train slowed to a halt and anxiousness practically bubbled in the air. Hermione and Riley left to go back to their compartment, and the three of them grabbed their stuff and departed the train, as orderly and fast as possible. Harry waded through the crowd that cluttered the platform. He looked this way and that way, looking everyone for his father. Harry looked toward a steel support and smiled. Clothed in a dark business suit with a black duster over it was Killian McKnight. The man lowered his black sunglasses and glittering, green eyes spotted Harry through the crowd.

Briskly, he walked to his dad and in the middle they caught up with each other, embracing in a long hug. All around them similar scenes were taking place. Kids everywhere were reunited with their parents or guardians, exchanging long hugs and warm greetings. Near the entrance of the platform, Draco Malfoy was happily greeted by his father and mother, showing other purebloods that even the Malfoy's weren't beyond an emotion such as joy.

Killian cupped Harry's cheek, smiling at him happily. "It's really good to see you, kiddo."

"You too, Dad," he replied grinning goofily. He looked around the platform and spotted Terry and Kevin. Two adults that had to be Kevin's parents by their similar look and a tall boy of about fourteen, who could be Terry's older brother, surrounded his friends.

Harry dragged his father over to the group and introduced themselves. The two adults were indeed Kevin's parents. His mother was friendly with her warm lilac eyes, like her son's, and very, very long auburn hair held back by a thick braid. His father was slightly colder but he was friendly as well. He was tall and had blond hair cut in one of those young executive styles and his face held a pair of icy, blue eyes that could cut stone.

"It's nice to meet all of you," said Joel, smiling warmly. He like his brother had dark black hair, but it wasn't fixed into spikes. His black hair fell free about his head, the long strands slightly touching his shoulders. He cocked his head at Killian, his face scrunching up in thought. "Do I know you?"

Killian shook his head, his face also thoughtful as he gazed at him, and replied "I don't think so. Maybe you've seen me in a magazine. My company is quite famous in the 'muggle,'" he made air quotes, putting bunny ears around muggle. "world."

Joel laughed, his light green eyes lighting up with humor. "Muggle sounds so ridiculous," he joked, then blanched, realizing he was standing with two adult people whose son was in fact a wizard. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you if you're magic."

Mr. Entwhistle shrugged. "We don't mind. We're not wizards."

_Just pureblood vampires,_ Harry thought. Mr. Entwhistle turned to him suddenly with a confused expression playing on his face. Something Kevin once said came rushing back. Harry could have slapped himself. Of course, Kevin's father, who was much older, would have more powers that his son did not have yet. _He's telepathic. Kevin did say that his species were telepaths._

"We need to hurry so we can get home. Our mum gets off work in about an hour," voiced Joel, sounding as polite as he could. "It was nice meeting you all. Come on, Terry." They left the platform, exiting through the wrought, iron archway that led to the world of London outside.

"See you over the Hol's, Harry!" shouted a voice. Harry turned around and waved at Riley and her dad, Blake, as they left the platform.

Kevin's parents made the obligatory excuse, after talking with them for a few minutes, and they left with a wave goodbye. Killian grabbed Harry's trunk and put it onto a trolley. He wheeled the cart in front of them, and together they left platform nine and three quarters. Harry smiled as he walked into the normal realm for the first time in months. He could have kissed the ground as he caught sight of a man using a cellphone, and heard sounds of music playing through speakers hooked to the wall corners. Electricity, he almost cried joyously, but wisely kept his mouth shut. His father caught the sparkle in his eye and gave him a questioning look.

"Electricity," Harry explained, waving a hand around him. "I almost went mad without a television."

Killian laughed as they walked outside. Harry stiffened; an icy blast of cold air hit him, not a second after he stepped outdoors. Killian chuckled and with a fond smile, he pulled the beanie down tighter over Harry's ears that were quickly turning red from the chill. Harry smiled his thanks and got in the sleek, black BMW parked in front of the entrance doors. A second later, the trunk slammed close and his father joined him.

"Cold are we?" half smiled Killian teasingly, as he started the ignition of car. With a low purr the BMW came to life pouring hot air from the vents and low music from the sound system.

Harry sighed in relief, feeling hot air washing over his body. "I really have to look into a self heating charm or something, because this winter cold crap is annoying."

Killian pulled into the street with easy movements, driving the car through traffic with quick actions. "You talk like you're not from England. You've lived here all your life. Aren't you used to it by now?" he said turning onto the main roadway.

"I'll never get used to the cold," Harry replied defiantly.

Killian laughing replied, "Whatever you say, kiddo."

Talk centered on what Hogwarts was like and how Harry had been doing for these months on his own. Of course Killian knew all this through Harry's letters, but reading and hearing are two different things. He also knew through Harry about all of the revelations he had faced. Quirrell not being what he seems, Snape being a pmsing bitch, Dumbledore not being human, Professor Sprout dying, the canceling of Herbology, Terry being psychic, Kevin really being a vampire, all of it he knew. A smile blossomed on his face as he caught sight of the McKnight Estate coming up around the bend. The looming white mansion, which could be classified as a small palace, and its extensive grounds, made a beautiful sight with all the snow covering it. The guards at the gate waved them through and they slowly drove up the long driveway, which in itself was a mini road.

Harry looked at the huge mansion, his heart soaring. _Home.__ I'm home._

* * *

Harry awoke Christmas morning with a sleepy smile on his face. He jumped out of bed, slipped on his slippers and bed robe, then raced down the stairs, black hair flying behind him. With a practiced ease he tied his hair back as he ran down the stairs to the first floor of the house. A yelp fell from his lips as he slid across the hardwood floor, completely missing his turn into the formal family room. He backtracked and rushed into the room. The windows had been opened letting light shine through, making the huge, green Christmas tree look like even more wonderful. Furniture decorated the room all around, complete with fireplace, side bar, and big screen television. Harry's eyes racked over the tree with its many decorations, blinking lights, and shiny tinsel hanging from its many branches. His eyes went lower to the massive cluster of presents nestled underneath the tree, sitting on top of a circular patch of red, velvet cloth.

"This is the only day that you always manage to wake up before me."

Harry jumped, spinning around on the ball of his heel he glared up at his yawning father. "And you always manage to sneak up on me."

Killian smiled sleepily. "Don't worry, one day you'll learn the tricks of the trade," he replied patting him on the shoulder. He walked forward taking a seat on the couch that was positioned next to the tree.

Harry raced to the presents on the ground and eagerly passed his father one with his name on it, then found one with his name. He ripped into the wrapping. Really, he didn't get some people. Who in the hell would carefully open a present neatly. The point of wrapping something is for it to be torn off or at least that was Harry's opinion. He beamed up at his father. A slim box with the picture of a black laptop computer fell from the wrappings.

"You actually got it!" Harry shouted excited. "The new Macintosh Powerbook 170! I knew sending you that catalogue was a good hint!"

Killian laughed loudly, as Harry jumped into his arms. "Hint? You had the page bookmarked. The picture was circled in three different colored inks _and_ you had a little arrow pointing to it with, and I quote here, 'Christmas, me like'."

Harry shrugged sheepishly, sliding from his father's arms back onto the floor, and replied, "Our views of the word hint are clearly two opposite meanings."

Harry dug into the rest of the presents with gusto. From Riley he had gotten a plain sliver ring. Nothing special about it, but it was nice and Harry immediately slipped it on. Hermione had given him a book about the history of the Ravenclaw house that Harry found fascinating, but set it aside to look at more stuff. Kevin got him a bag of chocolate that had to weight at least three pounds. From Terry, Harry received an earring that looked like a bunny head with a bow tie around its neck.

Harry turned to his father, holding out the earring. "Dad, can I get my ear pierced? Look at the earring Terry got me!"

Killian looked at the earring and immediately his cheeks turned a slight pink. He hurriedly took the earring from Harry and promised that he would get it pierced when he was older. Harry just shrugged it off and went back to opening presents. Killian stared at the earring, wondering where on earth Terry found a Playboy bunny symbol for an earring. He pocketed the adult themed gift. He might let Harry get away with a lot of things, but become a walking advertisement for an adult magazine was way crossing the line.

A lumpy wrapped parcel caught Harry's attention. He picked it up since it had his name on it in loopy writing. He read the note attached.

Harry,

Your father left this in my care years ago. It is now yours.

Harry frowned at the note. That was it. No sender name, nothing. He unwrapped the parcel and a slinky, silver cloak slithered out falling onto the floor. Harry frowned at the cloak. If it belonged to James Potter than why was it just now getting to him and who in the hell sent it. Harry folded it up and placed it behind him, out of the way, partially hidden so that his father couldn't see it. No doubt his dad would think it was a bomb or something. He really was that cautious. Plus, why in the hell did he want a cloak. He already had one. Admittedly, this one was much flashier but he liked his just fine, even if this one used to belong to his father. Maybe he would just keep it with him in his trunk, just to have it. Harry grabbed another wrapped present with his name on it, handing the one next to it to his father. He ripped open the parcel and a note fluttered out.

_Harry_,

_Your mother was a beautiful woman and her most_  
_cherished belonging besides her wedding ring was_  
_this necklace. Her faith in the Irish gods of old was_  
_unwaverable__, why I don't know, maybe it was because_  
_of her Irish heritage. Here is her Celtic cross that she_  
_received from her mother and that has been handed down_  
_from generation to generation within her, your, family._  
_Keep it well._

_Love,_  
_R.L_

Harry frowned at the note. Who was R.L.? He couldn't help but speculate that maybe the mysterious person was an old friend of his mothers. Harry opened the lid of the box. Nestled inside of the box was a beautiful cross. A Celtic cross if he had read the note right. It was silver and glowed when the sunlight hit it right. It looked like a regular Christian cross but it had a circle made to sit around the intersections of the crossing lines. Intricate designs were carved into it. If they had meaning, Harry didn't know it but it sure did look pretty.

"What do you have there, kiddo?" asked Killian, kneeling down on the floor.

Harry handed him the note, still staring at the necklace. Sure, somebody had just given him his father's cloak… but he actually now had something that one of his parents cherished. That in his mind was bigger than an old cloak. Killian read the note, and then with careful movements he extracted the cross from Harry's hands. Carefully, he looked it over for anything suspicious. Finally, he unclasped the chain and brought it around Harry's neck, letting it rest at the mid point of his collar bone. Killian ran a finger over the silver cross.

"I don't see anything wrong it with it," Killian replied. "Maybe it really did belong to your mother, Lily. I'll have to do some research into who this R.L. is. It shouldn't be too hard to figure out who the mysterious benefactor's identity is."

Harry grabbed the cross, holding it in a fist. "I can keep it right?" he asked pleadingly. "I don't think its dangerous or anything. It looks too old for it to be some kind of miniature bomb or something. Plus, I… I can feel it. Nothing is sending off my Blessed Sight. If it was harmful I would sense it in a heartbeat."

"Shhh… hush, child," replied Killian. "You can keep it. I'm not going to take it away."

* * *

Harry stared around the room, bored and tired was written plain on his face. Most of the people attending Killian's Christmas party were people he had met many other times in his life. Only the crème de la crème were in attendance tonight. That meant strictly those of high society had been invited to the shindig. Some of tonight's couples brought their kids, but Harry ignored that bunch, since most of them were spoiled, stuck up, little brats. Feeling stuffy, he tugged at the collar of his dress shirt, fingers itching to remove the tie held there. His black hair that had been ran through with hair goop, then combed thoroughly before being tied back, looked excellent. Harry clothed in his dark blue suit looked very GQ.

Leaning against a wall, arms folded, Harry's eyes swept around the room. Everyone was dressed up in his or her fancy clothes, looking nice and spiffy. The formal ball room was very spacious, because there was more than enough room for all of them to walk around unhindered. The theme of tonight was Merry Christmas, surprise, surprise. Red and green decorations practically covered every wall and table. His father stood amongst a group of royalty. A duke, duchess, and a lord hung onto his every word. They laughed quietly, sipping eggnog or cider from their flute glasses.

"Don't you look like you're having fun," said a sarcastic voice in his ear.

Harry twisted around almost falling over in shock. Riley smirked at him. It wasn't her suddenly talking in his ear that shocked him, it was her appearance. For once, Riley wasn't wearing jeans or her Hogwarts uniform. She was wearing a tasteful white dress that stopped at her calves. It was tight around her midsection then flared out. Her hair was loose and held back by two barrettes, one on each side of her hair. Very light make up covered her face, bringing out her features.

Riley raised an eyebrow. "Are you just going to stand there gawking or are you going to compliment me?" she asked smirking.

It took him a total of three tries before he could form a coherent sentence. "You...uh…you look great."

"Thank you," she beamed. "Dad made me wear a dress, so I figure if I had to wear one then I might as well wear it right. Is the make up alright? I think I look like a two dollar ho. Dad says it looks great but you know how dad's are."

Harry chuckled. "Don't I. Yeah, it looks fine though, and honestly you look really nice."

"Come one, let's get out of here," said Riley suddenly. "I feel like I'm on display standing next to you."

Harry nodded quickly relieved at having an opportunity to leave. Riley was right it was like they were on display. All of the guest in the room would every so often look at him, no doubt wondering what kind of brat the richest man in London turned out. They walked upstairs to Harry's room, nodding at the Archangels as they passed. The men were always on guard, looking and watching for anything not ordinary. Right now, they were on high alert because of the party and they patrolled the house in a non-stopping pattern of groups, such as twos and threes, five and German shepherds… see, odd.

Harry's room was very large and spacious. A queen size bed barely took up any space in the blue walled room. Movie posters hung from the walls. A desk with his laptop was positioned on one side of his bay window, and on the either side was a tall oak dresser that matched the two nightstands on either sides of his bed. A walk in closest and connecting bathroom also finished off the room's décor.

Riley looked around, letting out a slow whistle. "So this is where the Little Lord of London hangs his hat."

"Ugh," Harry groaned. "I really do hope that title changes when I get older."

Riley was interrupted from having to answer, because suddenly a loud tapping filled the room. They turned as one to the window, both instinctively falling into a fighting stance. Harry hands were loose at his sides and he was in a partial crouch, a classic judo stance. Riley was in a crouch also, lower than Harry's, it looked like a cross between an x and a t. Harry quirked an eyebrow recognizing the stance from watching Blake train with the Archangels. He had taught his daughter jijitsu, interesting.

Once they moved closer they relaxed from their stances. At the window was a gray barn owl. Harry let it in and it settled on his bedpost, a hoot of greeting coming from its beak, as it laid eyes on Serenity watching him from her cage. Thor meowed softly, carefully watching the owl as though if he wasn't friendly, he would eat him up in a heartbeat. Harry took the letter tied around the bird's leg. It gave a hoot of thanks before flying right back out of the open window.

"What is it, Harry?" asked Riley, coming to stand beside him.

Harry opened the letter, which was more like a packet. He read some of it then immediately folded it back up so Riley couldn't see it. It was information Terry promised he would send from his mother about Harry's gift. He didn't want to be rude, but this was personal and kind of secret. Only his father, the Angels of Death, and his two best friends knew about his Blessed Sight, and he wanted to keep it that way for awhile.

"Oh, it's from Terry," he answered truthfully.

The answer caused a desired effect. Riley's face screwed up in disgust and she gave a very disgruntled huff that made her look very un-lady like. The scowl on her face was enough for Harry to figure out that her and Terry wouldn't be getting along any time soon. Harry slipped the packet into a drawer of his desk then turned around. Riley caught sight of the silver ring on his finger and grinned. Harry caught her stare and held up his finger with the ring.

"Thanks for the ring, Riley. It's really cool."

Riley shrugged. "People gave me a ton of jewelry for my birthday and since I don't do jewelry…" she said trailing off, flushing at the incredulous look he was shooting her."So for presents, all my friends got earrings, necklaces, or rings… Merry Christmas!"

Harry stared at her wide eyed, amazed. "What if you sent somebody their own gift back? Say they gave you a ring for your birthday and you gave them the same ring back to them for Christmas."

Riley blinked. "Oh, I didn't think of that."

* * *

Harry sat crossed leg on his bed with the packet of information from Terry's mother in front of him. He glanced out of the window noting the crescent moon hanging in the clear sky. The party had ended hours ago and it was well past one in the morning and Harry was alone with his thoughts.

Thor cuddled up next to him, rubbing his soft white fur along Harry's pajama clothed thigh. Idly, Harry reached down and scratched his pet behind the ears, as his eyes scanned the papers in front of him. She had included information coming from various experts, books, and her own personal journal. With her line of work she had run into this type of thing on occasion so that made her somewhat of an expert. Harry currently scanned the papers she had included from a Researcher named Brian Fraud, who at one time worked at the Elysian Institute. Harry remembered vaguely from a history book that the Elysian Institute was the same place his mother worked before she died. She had been a Researcher of Ancient Lore and Mythology.

"This is interesting," Harry muttered to himself, reading an excerpt from Fraud's published journal.

Once upon a time, I thought faeries lived only  
in books, old folktales, and the past. That was  
before they burst upon my life as vibrant,  
luminous beings, permeating my art and my  
everyday existence, causing glorious havoc.

In folklore, they say that those who can see  
the Faeries are blessed with second or blessed sight.  
Where some people perceive only empty fields,  
a man or woman with blessed sight can see a  
host of faeries dancing in a ring or the shining  
entrance to a faerie hill. Where some notice  
only an ordinary street of shops or a marketplace,  
others see faeries in human disguise,  
paying for market goods with magical coins  
that will turn into mere stones and leaves  
when the faeries have gone

Through painting pictures and listening to the  
spirit of the beautiful land where I make my  
home, I have discovered that the blessed sight  
is not limited to people in old folktales. Mainly those who  
worship faerie gods, such as the Daoine Sidhe or the  
Tuatha Dé Danaan, are given Blessed Sight.

Humans have long maintained close daily  
connections with the faeries. In centuries past,  
we've acknowledged them by many traditional  
names: boggarts, bogles, bocans, bugganes,  
brownies, blue-caps, banshees, miffies,  
nippers, nickers, knockers, noggles, lobs,  
hobs, scrags, ouphs, spunks, spurns,  
hodge-pochers, moon dancers, puckles,  
thrumpins, mawkins, gally-trots, Melsh Dicks,  
and myriad others. Just as they have many  
different names, they appear to us in many  
different guises.

Harry hummed in thought. That was precisely what he could do. He had could see things that others couldn't. Dumbledore was a faerie and he had seen his true face, while others who had known him for years hadn't seen a thing. Harry frowned. That explains what his powers were, but where did they appear from. Dumbledore had said that his mother had seen through his glamour, was he implying that she had Blessed Sight as well. Harry looked through the excerpt again, rereading the part where it said usually people who worship faerie gods are given Blessed Sight. From what he knew of his mother she was very into her heritage. He touched the cross hanging around his neck. The letter from R.L. did say she believed in Irish gods. Was that the same as worshiping faerie gods? Maybe her gift of Blessed Sight was hereditary.

_Mum,_ he thought, clenching the cross and gazing out into the stars. _If there was ever a time that I needed answers its now. What the hell makes me different? Were you… not… human._


	14. Requiem for a Fallen Raven

D1isclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter either. It belongs to its creator J.K. Rowling and probably Warner Bros. too. I'm not too sure about that. This piece of literature is simply the work of a humble fan. I also credit Laurell K. Hamilton for various themes, subjects, or references that I may use. It won't be a crossover but certain elements from the series will be used.

* * *

:Author Notes:

This will be leaning more toward alternate reality. It will have the same characters just a different spin on things. If you're not a fan or strong cursing or maybe even violence and bloodshed then there is a good chance that this story isn't for you.

* * *

"We twist and turn where angels burn. Like fallen soldiers, we will learn, that once forgotten, twice removed, love will be the death of you." Savage Garden, _Some song I don't know_

Potter

Chapter Thirteen: Requiem for a Fallen Raven

By: Water Mage

Harry closed the book in front of him. He coughed a little at the dust that shot up from the crinkled, yellowing pages. He sat in the library of Hogwarts, books spread all over the table he occupied. Hogwarts had entered into its second term with a startling quickness. It was now the end of February, close to two months since Christmas and the mysterious packages. His father had found out who R.L. was, from various agents he had within Interpol, the International Crime Police Organization. Interpol was startling good at tracking people with little information, like initials and an estimated age. The person in question happened to be one Remus Lupin. That was it. There was no other information besides the usual. Like age and birth records. There was no home address, parking tickets, dental records, nothing that would necessary in tracking him down for further questioning.

Harry touched a hand to the cross dangling down from the chain around his neck. Whoever, Remus Lupin was, besides a friend of his mother's, Harry wanted to thank him. The gift had become his most valuable belonging. He never took it off, never. It was the only link he had to his mother. He had his father's cloak, too, but he wasn't going to wear that flashy thing. Who in their right mind would? In his opinion it was absolutely horrid, like some bad Halloween costume.

With the Celtic cross came something else. A new obsession. Ever since learning of Lily Potter's passion for the old gods of Ireland, Harry had taken to learning all he could about them. The Tuatha Dé Danann were among of the most important of the gods. There were many of them, some being, Dagda, Brigid, Nuada, Lugh, Dian Cecht, Ogma, and Lir. Dagda was the most important. Harry looked at all the books around him. They were all on lore and mythology of Ireland. Picking one at random, he opened it, flipping by chance to a brief section on Dagda.

**DAGDA**

by: Micha F. Lindemans

The Irish-Celtic god of the earth and treaties, and ruler over life and death.  
Dagda, or The Dagda, ("the good god") is one of the most prominent gods  
and the leader of the Tuatha Dé Danann, "Children of the Goddess Danu"  
He is a master of magic, a fearsome warrior, a master of knowledge, and a  
skilled artisan. Dagda is a son of the goddess Danu, the High Goddess of the  
Earth, and father of the goddess Brigid and the god Aengus mac Oc. The  
Morrigan is his wife, and his eternal enemy is the Lone Power, Rhita Gawr  
Dagda is portrayed as possessing both super—human strength and appetite.  
He is prone to changing forms, and his most recognizable one is the form of  
a white stag. His attributes are a cauldron with an inexhaustible supply of  
food, a magical harp with which he summons the seasons, and an enormous  
club, with one end of which he could kill nine men, but with the other  
restore them to life. The Lia Fial, the stone that sees destinies, belongs to  
him, too. He also possessed two marvelous swine--one always roasting,  
the other always growing--and ever-laden fruit trees.

It is said that when Rhita Gawr tries again to take the realm of Avalon, the  
Chosen will stand up to him. The Chosen are the champions of Dagda, his  
Generals and Lieutenants. They will lead the army of the Faerie against the  
demon army of Rhita Gawr, for the right to claim the gate between Heaven  
and Earth.

Dagda had many names in many different tongues. One of his epithets is  
Ollathir, which means "All-father". He is identified with the Welsh Gwydion  
and the Gallic Sucellos.

"That's interesting," Harry muttered, "I've never heard of the Chosen or anything about leading a Faerie army."

Harry, of course, knew who the Faerie are. He had come across them many times in his study, since they were in a way connected to the Irish gods and Ireland itself. Also, Dumbledore had told him that he was the grandson of a Faerie creature, when Harry had seen through his glamour, many months ago.

The fey were mysterious creatures. They lived in another realm parallel to their own, often called Fairyland. They were ruled by two courts known as the Seelie and the Unseelie court, one of light and the other of evil. These beings, the Fey, once populated old Ireland and were of the same stature but of way lower power than the Tuatha Dé Danann. Harry thumped his finger against the table, thinking. The Chosen didn't sound the least bit familiar, in fact he had only came across it in this one text, but… He had a feeling that it was important. A tingling feeling at the pit of his stomach was more like it.

"Harry!"

Harry spun around in his chair. With quick reflexes, he slipped his knives from their sheaths under his sleeves, and held them at ready, posture tense and on high alert. Kevin and Terry halted in their footsteps. Terry's eyes widened and he looked partially horrified and just plain scared straight. Kevin on the other hand, looked at the knives calmly, merely raising an eyebrow at Harry.

"Put the knives away, Harry. No one is going to hurt you," said Kevin, calmly. "You _are_ in the _library_."

Terry just looked at Kevin, shaking his head, and said, "Since when are you calm when someone pulls a knife on you."

Kevin shrugged. "I'm a Daywalker. We don't fear mortal weapons."

"You're cocky," replied Harry, slipping his knives back in their sheaths. "But in other news… what the hell are you two doing sneaking up on me like that. I almost had a fucking heart attack."

Terry walked forward to the table, and then grabbed one of the lighter books from the tallest stack. Frowning, he read the cover, and then turning to Harry, he raised his eyebrow. "What is with your sudden interest in Ireland anyway?" asked Terry. "Wait, don't say anything. You already told us before."

"Again and again," replied Harry, grinning. "I told you that I want to find out why my mother believed in this so much. There has to be an honest reason as to why. These have to be more than stories since an educated woman believed in them."

Kevin cleared his throat. "Anyway, before I stepped into a History of Ireland, I would just like to say that there is a Quidditch game taking place.

Harry clapped a hand against his forehead, letting out a low moan. "I forgot that was today. Ravenclaw verses Gryffindor, right?"

They nodded and he swore under his breath. With their help, Harry gathered the numerous books and dumped them in the resorting box in the middle of the library. Any book placed in the box would magically go back into its proper place on the shelves. A really handy thing, since Harry had completely forgot where he got most of the books from anyway. Grabbing his bag, Harry walked quickly out of the library with his friends at his side. Their footsteps were loud and echoing as they briskly walked down the empty corridors to the ground floor of the school. It seemed everyone was at the Quidditch game because there wasn't a single person in sight as far as they could see. Kevin stopped abruptly as they neared the Great Hall and entrance doors. The others stopped also, looking to him in confusion. Kevin swore under his breath.

"I'm sorry, guys," Kevin said apologetically, "I have to go the Hospital Wing and take my medicine. I totally forgot. Just go ahead and go to the game and I'll catch up later."

Harry held up a hand to stop him and say what medicine, but Kevin took off down the hall. Not at a regular pace neither. The speed he moved at was inhuman. His entire body practically blurred he was moving so fast. Super speed, Harry mused, must be nice. He turned to Terry and shrugged and they continued on their original path out of the school. The chilly air bit at them as they walked down the grounds toward the roaring of the Quidditch Pitch that was packed with students and teachers. Thick, billowy clouds covered the sky blocking the sun and making it just a little colder than it should be.

The Quidditch Pitch was longer than any football field by a great length. Surrounding the green field were tall, gold and red, and bronze and blue towers that held seats for all the students and faculty. The towers interchanged colors every game, sporting whatever colors of the teams playing. At opposite ends of the field were three tall pools each topped with a hoop. Players decked in blue and red zoomed through the air, riding broomsticks that ranged in quality and speed. Harry stared up as they came to the Ravenclaw tower that most of their house sat in. The tower held a spring door that allowed easy entrance to the top.

"Fuck, that's a lot of stairs," Terry whistled, staring at the winding, wooden stairs that led to the top where their seats were.

Harry gave him a clap on the back. "Well then we better get started."

Terry just groaned, muttering under his breath, as he followed Harry up the rickety stairs. It may have looked like a lot of stairs but it took them no time at all to get to the top. Harry wondered if it was magic working, but didn't think on it too long. They shoved past some older teens lounging by the doorway, and found an empty row to sit on that had a perfect view of the ongoing game. Harry looked at the score. On a large blackboard mounted on the top of a long pole was the score. Ravenclaw had thirty and Gryffindor had twenty.

"Cool, we're winning," remarked Harry, pointing to the score.

Terry grinned. "Cho Chang is the new Seeker this year. She's supposed to be really good."

"Well, let's just hope she wows us by catching the Snitch before Gryffindor does," replied Harry. He looked over to the Gryffindor side. "Have you seen Hermione today?"

"I think she's sitting with Riley and her friends," said Terry, not even taking his eyes off the match. "At least she was earlier."

Harry stored that piece of information away. He hadn't known that Riley and Hermione were friends. The two girls had been introduced to each other by Harry on the train to Kings Cross for Yule. He hadn't known that they would actually become friends. Harry grinned inwardly. Riley being Hermione's friend was good. Now, she would have someone in Gryffindor watching her back just in case Weasley pulled any more of his superior crap. Harry looked around at the stands to see who was here. The Professors were all gathered together sitting in one tower. A confused look came on to his face. Professor Dumbledore was here for this game. Usually, the Headmaster didn't show up for the Quidditch games. Everyone assumed he was just too busy to attend. It looked like he made time for this game.

"Cho! You stupid bitch get the fucking Snitch!"

"Dammit! Wake up, Chang!"

Harry snapped from his daze, hearing the outcry of voices come from all around. He gazed around staring at his frustrated and angry housemates. Raising eyebrows in surprise, Harry looked back to the game. It seems that Cho Chang had been caught spacing off at a bad time. The Snitch had been spotted and Gryffindors Seeker, a pretty black girl with light green eyes, was already on its trail. The shouts of rage grabbed Cho's attention and regaining her balance, she sped off on the girl's trail. Cho's long black hair trailed behind her like a streamer, as she raced through the air on the other Seeker's heels.

"Cho Chang is hot on Gryffindor Seeker, Alyssan Young's, heels!" screamed the excited voice of the announcer, Lee Jordon.

Harry tuned Lee out because, honestly, his commentary was a bit annoying and a lot of irritating. Instead he focused his attention on the hot dive taking place. The Golden Snitch hovered not more than ten feet above the ground in plain sight. Alyssan was in a vertical dive with Cho not more than a foot behind her. Slowly, Cho began to pull forward, but it was not enough. Alyssan stretched out her hand and putting on a burst of speed, she closed in on the Snitch and the whistle blew announcing the end of the game.

"Gryffindor wins 170 to 30!" screamed Lee, his magnified voice easily reaching over the cheers and or groans of the crowd.

Terry let out a loud swear that was barely heard, since pretty much everyone sitting around them was voicing their own disbelief or anger, quite verbally. Harry shivered suddenly as a feeling like never before raced up and down his spine. He gasped, as his sight clouded over. Suddenly, images came behind his eyelids pounding into his mind eye. There was a boy, he was running. Someone grabbed him. A scream of pure fear ripped from the boy's mouth. The one holding him ripped back their hand and reached for his throat. Blood. There was so much blood. Harry fought off his urge to vomit and focused harder, but it was useless. The images were coming too fast and made no sense whatsoever.

All he could figure out was that death was evident.

Gasping, Harry's eyes snapped open as he came back to his senses. He was sitting on the bleachers with his head in between his knees, and his breath came in short pants. From edge to edge his eyes glowed a bright, emerald green. He blinked rapidly, and slowly his eyes lost the glow and returned to normal. A hand touched his shoulder and he snapped his head up. Terry flinched back from the dark look covering Harry's face.

"You alright, mate?" he asked hesitantly. "What happened?"

Harry looked around and the tower was slowly emptying of their fellow Ravenclaws. He leaned in close to Terry, so he could whisper in the other boy's ear. "I just had a vision or something. I don't know what the hell it was. I… saw something."

Terry nodded, and said, "You do have Blessed Sight. No surprise you saw something, so what Unseen did you see?"

"Murder," replied Harry grimly.

"Where? Who!" Terry asked in a rush.

Harry shook his head. "I don't know. It was all coming too fast. I just know there was a murder."

Terry closed his eyes and evened out his breath. He entered into a light meditated trance that he had been taught by his mother and instructors. Quickly, he touched that part of his spirit or soul that had a link with water and everything associated with it. He opened himself up and simply listened to what the element had to say. A moment later he opened his eyes and looked to Harry with his lips set in a thin line.

"You're right. The oceans are restless and unsettled," Terry whispered in a far away voice that was slightly monotone. "They sing of a lost soul."

Harry stood up quickly, going to the door. "Come on," he said, urgently. "I have a bad feeling."

They exited the tower and walked past the border that marked off the area as the Quidditch Pitch. Harry walked at a brisk pace. He really did have a tingling feeling in his stomach that warned him of danger. By now, from researching, Harry knew that it was his Blessed Sight. The sense inherited from his mother that would kick in whenever the hell it felt like. They followed the crowd of students that slowly walked across the grounds to the castle. Suddenly, a single shrill scream, then multiple screams rang through the air, like some soundtrack from a slasher movie.

"Harry?" questioned Terry with a wide eyed look.

Harry was already moving forward pushing past the older students that crowded up ahead. They looked like a sea of black, as hundreds of black robed teens clustered around a walk worn path near the castle's entrance doors. Harry approached the middle of the circle with Terry following close behind him.

He had seen a lot of things in his life, but what lay before him was one of the top ten things of worst shit.

What lay before him, was the dead body of one of his fellow Ravenclaw students. His own year mate, dorm mate, Michael Corner.

He lay on his back on the ground. Lifeless blue eyes stared up into the sky. The sunlight shone down on the body, making it stand out like some odd spotlight. It was not like they couldn't see it. Oh yeah, they could see it very well. Long, deep cuts ran down the left side of his face, as if he had been swiped with a claw. Harry's emotions left him as he clinically went over the body. He frowned. It had to have been a claw. Nothing else could have cut into his face so deep. A claw had sliced over the eye, the left one, spilling blood and thick globs of clear gel like mucus down his cheek. The lower jaw was disfigured. Crushed was more like it. It was like a hand of incredible strength had grabbed it then somehow squeezed till there was nothing but mess. His face looked mutilated and unproportioned with the crushed jaw. Harry felt sorry Michael. These wounds were serious, but they weren't mortal, meaning it hadn't killed him, only hurt like a son of a bitch. The poor bastard.

Harry's eyes flickered down. Michael's throat had been torn out. Yes, that was what had killed him. The flesh was just gone, as if great fangs had completely tore it away, with powerful jaws. The spine shone a dull white, amongst the darkening, red blood. Like a bright pearl, the spine through his destroyed throat. His robes were ripped and disheveled, looking like he had gotten into a fight and lost. Blood, so much blood, pooled around his body, looking like an overly, large puddle that was steadily growing larger. Harry stepped back as the puddle of blood extended, touching the tips of his boots.

"Clear back! Please clear back!" shouted Professor Dumbledore, entering the ring with Professors Flitwick, Mr. Matheson, McGonagall, and Snape trailing behind him.

"Oh my!"

They all went through reactions that went from horror to shock then to disbelief. Harry looked around at his fellow students. Those closes enough to see was either wiping their mouths, because they vomited, or they were shedding tears. The students back far enough to not see stood on tip toes, or shouted out questions asking what happened and what was going on. Harry glanced at Michael to see how he was holding up. The boy was pale and his eyes were red from the heavy wiping he was doing to his eyes, as tears continued to pour down his face. Harry didn't offer comfort. Instead he turned back to the Professors to see what in the hell they planned to do about this. They didn't know who or what did this.

Dumbledore shook his head, and Harry frowned. Following the Headmaster's gaze his eyes stared at Michael's throat. Looking harder he saw something he hadn't see before. Around the throat wound were teeth marks. Definitely, not human ones. A light went off in his brain. The vision he had before. This was it. He looked around quickly. But where in the hell was the killer.

"Students I want," began Professor Dumbledore holding up his hands for silence to quiet the whispers, crying, shouts, that was going on. Still the noise continued on. Only by emitting a loud bang and red sparks from his wand, did the crowd calm down and turn to him.

Suddenly, from the crowd, Professor Quirrell stumbled into the circle. His cheek was bleeding from four gashes, running from cheekbone to chin. His throat was bleeding profusely also.

McGonagall let out a startled noise, and ran to the fallen man, helping him stand. Harry took in the Defense professor. His robes were ruined, because of the blood coating them, and his turban was askew exposing dark, brown hair. Harry noticed that Snape and Matheson were the only teachers who hadn't rushed forward to help the injured man. Instead, they stood back watching and calculating, staring at the man as if he were some specimen under a microscope. Hum, it seems that Harry wasn't the only one that knew Quirrell wasn't as mild mannered and extra mentally special as he seemed.

Quirrell looked at Professor Dumbledore, gasping and panting with battered breath. "I, we were attacked!"

Dumbledore placed a hand on the man's shoulder, the twinkle from his eyes long gone. "Calm down," he replied calmly. "Tell us what happened here. Did you see anything?"

"Yeah, I saw it," stuttered Quirrell. "I don't know what it was. I think it was student but he was inhuman. A monster! He came at us and he was too strong. I tried to fight but he so much stronger than me. He killed…" Quirrell broke off. Regaining his breath, he continued. "He killed, Michael Corner! I couldn't hold him off so I ran for my life and he chased me into the forest. I only barely managed to knock him out."

Nodding, Dumbledore placed a hand against Quirrell's un-bloodied cheek to silence him. "That is enough, Quintein. Professor Flitwick and McGonagall please escort him to the Hospital Wing." The Professors walked off, helping the limping professor along. Dumbledore turned to the crowd, taking full charge of the situation. "I want all students in their Common Rooms now! Head Boy and Girl! Take charge! Prefects, escort the First Years!"

The Prefects immediately went into action, and the crowd began moving forward. A sense of unity flowed from the crowd as they walked forward. Some of the people, who glimpsed the body, threw up, fainted, or braved it. Those who braved it helped others along, taking them by the hand, and led them on forward. Harry was proud to see that Riley, Draco, Terry, and Hermione were braving it out.

Although he did wonder what made Hermione and Draco strong enough to stomach the sight. Riley and Terry he knew. Riley's father was an Archangel, enough said. Terry had seen Harry kill a zombie, and he had extensive training in blocking feelings, thanks to his mediation and discipline. But, Hermione and Draco… They couldn't have seen even a third of what Harry had in his young life… so what made them only flinch at the sight of a dead peer? That was a question he had to ponder another day because right now he had more important stuff to worry about.

Like where in the hell was Kevin.

That question stayed on his mind as he walked silently beside Terry, and the Ravenclaws. He had been gone for almost three hours now. There was no way it took that long to go the Hospital Wing and then down to the Pitch. Harry bit his lip, as he followed Terry through the Mirror Portal that led into the Common Room. Maybe something had happened to Kevin, Harry wondered, not hearing the whispers and sounds of crying filling through the air at the moment. In a daze he took a seat in the windowsill. Terry pulled up a chair and they looked at each other then down at the ground, neither knowing what to say. Harry looked around. Others were in much the same position. What do you say when one of your own gets murdered by some killer that you don't even know? Really, what do you say at a time like this? Nothing. And that was precisely what was being said.

Nobody said a word.

That was how it stayed for almost twenty five minutes.

First, whispered conversations stared, and then developed slowly, till finally the Common Room was flying with activity. Everybody had a suggestion and the mood in the air was angry and somber. Somber that such a young spirit had been taken from the Earth, and pissed because that young spirit was one of their own. Someone they should have been watching better and looking after closer. That was what a house did for one another.

"What could have done something like this?" asked Wesley Price, his deep voice carrying across the room.

Roger Davies, a third year, stood up, his eyes wide and face pale. "Whatever it was wasn't human! Anyone with enough sense could tell that!"

Cho Chang rose from her seat, staring hard at her fellow Quidditch teammate. "You don't know that, Roger! Quirrell is an idiot! We don't know how true his story is."

"Chang, don't be dense!" shouted Eddie Carmichael, a second year, looking at her with a harsh stare. "You saw… We all know that nothing human could have done that."

"What are suggesting?" snapped Cho, crossing her arms with. Her form shaking slightly, still in her mind she could see Michael Corner lying there, dead and broken.

"I think it was a demon," said Anthony Goldstein softly, speaking up in the silence that followed Cho's question.

He was pale and tear tracks had dried on his cheeks. Michael had been a good friend of his. Next to him was Stephen Cornfoot. He was in much the same shape, with his puffy eyes, and pale face. But his eyes, they looked like they were staring faraway, not focusing on anything, merely gazing at the unknown. Harry could tell right now that Stephen would be fucked up for years. He was going to need some industrial strength counseling. Anyone could tell simply by looking at him.

Roger glared at him. "Don't be silly, First Year. A demon couldn't have gotten onto the grounds of Hogwarts. This place is far too warded for that. Read _Hogwarts, A History_ then come talk to me."

Harry rolled his eyes. Roger was getting on his last nerve. The First Year comment was too much and he let his mouth open without hesitation. Staring up at the tall teen, he glared icily, and quipped, "Then enlighten us to what you think it was, jackass."

"I think it was a Vampire."

Harry blanched as his face lost its color. Terry turned to him his eyes wide and Harry bit his lip, subtly shaking his head. No, Roger couldn't know about Kevin. He couldn't suspect that Kevin had killed Michael. Harry wouldn't believe that. Kevin was a vampire of soul. They didn't kill like the other species. But… where was Kevin. Where had he been this whole time?

Marietta Edgecomb snorted under her breath. Her curly, reddish blond hair was tied back in a ponytail that bounced as she stood up. "Everyone do not listen to Roger," she said, loudly. "A vampire being around Hogwarts is absurd."

Roger raised an eyebrow. "Oh really," he sneered. "And why is that?"

"I don't know!" snapped Marietta, her cheeks flushing a cheery red. "It's just impossible."

She sat down on the couch with a huff. Crossing her arms, she glared up at Roger, who was staring her with a superior smirk. Everyone in the Common Room knew that they weren't really mad at one another. In fact they were good friends, but the whole situation had everyone tense and on edge. With a killer on the loose no one knew what to do. Harry looked around. He could see many of his housemates weighing the option in their mind. Slowly, many of them began sprouting out theories about vampires and why one would be at Hogwarts. They began to get loud and arguments erupted in the room as the theories became ludicrous with every passing moment.

"Children, settle down!"

Everyone looked toward the voice. The Grey Lady, better known as Lady Morgana, came gliding through the wall in all her transparent glory. With a sharp gaze that made many of them shiver, she barked out an order for them all to quiet.

"Now, who wants to tell me what is the problem?" she asked, staring around with those hard eyes. Her pretty face was fixed into a sharp glare that caused them to look down.

Harry spoke up since no one else seemed to. "Roger has the entire house believing that some vampire is on the grounds of Hogwarts."

"That's because it's true!" shouted Roger indignant.

Terry rolled his eyes, standing up, and replied sarcastically, "You don't even have any proof! Let's be for real here and stop playing, pointing fingers. You don't know a vampire did this."

"Shut up, gel boy!" Roger yelled, "No one asked your opinion."

Harry's face went slack and his eyes narrowed into slits. Those emerald orbs bored into the older boy with coldness and pure fury. Those watching got silent as they watched the savoir of the wizarding realm turn into an emotionless child. "Davies…" began Harry in a quiet voice that had no trouble carrying across the room."Don't ever talk to my friend that way again."

Roger gave him a slow look. A look that clearly said _who in the fuck do you think you are_. "What will you do if I did?"

Harry smiled and stepped forward.

Lady Morgana brought her see-through hands together as if clapping. A gust of wind surged through the circular room, causing Harry to be pushed back and for Roger to stumble and fall backward on his ass. The wind died and Lady Morgana ascended forward, her face stone cold, and her moving in an unfelt current. Her eyes glowed white as she stared both of the boys down. Roger looked like he was going to piss himself, but Harry was pissed. Davies had broken his last nerve. Instead of cowering under her gaze, Harry stared at her back, glaring at her with equal intensity.

_If this bitch wants to play then we'll play._ Unknowingly, his own eyes began to slowly shine a dark green and his fists clenched at his sides, were wound so tight that his nails bit into his skin drawing blood.

Suddenly, the Mirror Portal activated with a low whirling sound. Harry took a brief look at the entrance for only a moment. Then realizing what he just saw, he snapped his head back toward the portal. He gasped, mouth dropping open as he took in the sight before them all. No one in the room made a sound. They all stared in shocked silence. There framed in the entrance was Kevin. What caused them to react the way they did was his appearance. Harry for the first time was actually seeing Kevin in his true form. The boy's skin was shiny, almost translucent, making him glow in an otherworldly manner. His lilac eyes glowed, so dark and vibrant, looking like liquid fire that made them all want to fall into them. Kevin's blond hair fell around his head like a halo that radiated like polished gold. Overall, he was a beautiful creature that looked nothing human.

There was something else.

Coating Kevin's chin and around his mouth was blood. Thick globs of red blood clung to his face looking like he had rubbed his face in it as it were paint. His robes were ripped and drenched in blood also. It rolled down his robes in tiny rivulets, dripping onto the carpeted floor. Kevin opened his mouth to speak and someone screamed. For when he opened his mouth, they saw blood. It swirled all around his mouth staining his tongue and teeth. That was only one reason why people screamed. The scream came because when he opened his mouth, they also glimpsed two, long elongated fangs coated in blood.

"He's a fucking vampire!" shouted Roger Davies, pointing. "He killed Michael Corner!"

Kevin looked to Harry and Terry for help, but they only stared back stunned. Harry took a step forward, but stopped. He flinched at the hurt look that came from Kevin's flaming eyes of liquid fire. He couldn't bring himself to defend his friend… Maybe he really was a dangerous vampire. Vampires didn't need medicine so where in the hell was he and why did he lie?

Harry bit his lip, thinking, _Kevin, what the hell have you done?_


	15. Final Act de la Vampyre

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter either. It belongs to its creator J.K. Rowling and probably Warner Bros. too. I'm not too sure about that. This piece of literature is simply the work of a humble fan. I also credit Laurell K. Hamilton for various themes, subjects, or references that I may use. It won't be a crossover but certain elements from the series will be used.

* * *

:Author Notes:

This will be leaning more toward alternate reality. It will have the same characters just a different spin on things. If you're not a fan or strong cursing or maybe even violence and bloodshed then there is a good chance that this story isn't for you.

* * *

"I know who and what I am. I am The Executioner, and I don't date vampires. I kill them." Anita Blake, the Executioner, _Guilty Pleasures_

**Potter**

Chapter Fourteen: Final Act de la Vampyre

By: Water Mage

"I killed no one!" argued Kevin, looking around, "You all have to believe me."

Roger and a trio of elder students raised their wands, pointing them unwaveringly at Kevin. Their gazes were horrified and unsure, bordering confusion. Kevin stood defiantlyglaring hard at the wands pointed at him. Harry had had enough. Roger's little domineering kick had gotten out of hand. The students holding the wands stepped forward as one, faces angry and harsh. Suddenly, they all stopped as a loud thud rang throughout the circular room. Everyone looked down confused at the sight of a knife stuck tip first in the wood floor. Heads turned andfollowed the knife's trajectory back toward its origin. Dozens of eyes stared in shock at Harry, who stood with his arm outstretched, wearing an expression of pure coldness.

Harry gave Roger, and the gang of wand holders an icy stare. "Put the wands away. This is not gang up on the vampire day."

"What are you retarded, kid?" questioned Roger dumbfounded. "Get the fuck away from the vampire or we'll hurt you, too!"

Kevin hissed baring fangs at the threat. All at once shouts of alarm and cries of disbelief came from the other Ravenclaws staring at the showdown. Terry shook off his shock and went with what his gut was telling him. He rose to his feet and joined Harry. They stood near Kevin who was surprised, but immediately his expression washed away into thankfulness.

"Can we at least let him explain first," began Terry speaking loudly and clearly, hoping he could calm everyone down. "We are Ravenclaws not Gryffindors. We don't rush into things. Let's just sit down and hear his side of the story."

"He's a bloody vampire!" snapped Roger.

He was shut up as the temperature in the room dropped unnaturally. Harry took a breath and was mystified at seeing white mist accompany the action. Shivering, he rubbed his hands together the friction providing some warmth. Lady Morgana descended upon them in all her preternatural glory. Hair moving by some unseen wind, she glided toward them, eyes radiating a glowing white. A stare that could have frozen even the cursed Medusa in stone, was fixed upon her usually beautiful face making her look hard and unyeilding. Speaking slowly and quietly, Morgana's voice came out in a deathly whisper that spanned the entireroom.

"Roger Davies, you will listen to what this child of the night has to say or I will make you listen," she smiled like a predator, and his head bobbed up and down in affirmation. Her head snapped up, and those blazing white eyes glared at the other Ravenclaws. "That goes for the rest of you also."

She got no arguments. Her eyes stopped glowing, and the unfelt wind stopped leaving her hair still. Harry stared around at the scared faces and wondered did his face mirror their own frightened ones. Lady Morgana had definitely put the itch in bitch and the night in nightmare with that display. Kevin had taken the time to wipe his face of the blood using his robe's sleeves. Looking depressed and solemn he gazed first at his friends, then Lady Morgana, and finally to the rest of their peers. He didn't bother to put back up his human face. This was not the time for games. If he was going to tell the truth he had to be true. No deceptions. No masks. Just him being himself, and honest. They had to believe him.

They had to.

And he began…

Kevin ran to the Hospital Wing. He could taste the hunger creeping at his thoughts. It called at him. Eating away at his self control, it hammered away at his senses and soul, threatening to devour and swallow him whole. The craving was upon him. He could feel his eyes begin to shine brighter, as his control on his human face began to slip. Portraits, statues, and armor blurred around him, as ran at an inhuman speed toward the place where he could find release.

The infirmary was nothing special. It was a long room with painted white walls, beds aligned in a neat rows, and shelves full potions and gadgets. Off to the side was a door that led to a small office. Just as he set foot in the room, the door opened and out stepped the Medical or Medi Witch in charge of this room. Madam Pomfrey was a short, middle aged witch, with graying hair and a warm, no nonsense attitude. Seeing Kevin in the door panting, eyes shining, and face dazed she let out a startledcry.

"Oh stars, child!" she swore taking his arm, and guiding him to a seat on the nearest bed. "I told you that you shouldn't go so long without feeding. You can't ignore the thirst."

"No," replied Kevin, panting heavily. "I can't let them know."

Madam Pomfrey shook her head, making sounds with her tongue as she walked briskly into her office. Kevin clenched the bed rail feeling his lungs working in overtime. His breath came in rapid pants. Shadows clouded in his head, whispering dark things. Blood pounded in his ears and his heart thudded loudly in his throat. Kevin's eyes bled from their shining lilac to deep red, as blood rushed through his system. His stomach gave a violent lurch and a low groan left his mouth as the thirst grew stronger.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

A pulse. He closed his eyes blocking out the sounds of Madam Pomfrey's heartbeat pounding so loudly in his ears. The very sound struck a chord deep within. Unconsciously, he flashed to the place where vampires go when the Bloodthirst takes control. The darkness, the animal, the soulless beast within liked the sound of her heart beating. It wasn't as strong as a younger human would have been. But that was a good thing. She would be easy prey. A feral grin slowly took over Kevin's face. He liked that. His hand clenched the bed rail tighter, and a crunching sound filled the air as the rail bent and twisted in his grip. He snatched his hand back, mind racing back to the surface of sanity. Sweating lightly, Kevin held a hand to his temple.

"Shit," he cursed softly. "This is cutting it too close."

Two loud bangs rang throughout the room. The door to the infirmary slammed and shutters guarding the window closed. Madam Pomfrey came in to the room holding her wand and potion in hand. Quickly, she walked to his side and handed him the vial filled with red, swirling liquid. So like blood, but not. It was a synthetic substitute that calmed his cravings for a longer time. But it was no match for the sweet, sweet, taste of fresh warm blood. Taking the vial, Kevin popped the cap and raised his head back, spilling the contents down his throat. A moan that could be best described as purely sensual left his throat. Kevin let out deep hiss, fangs lengthening, as the synthetic blood rushed through his body. It flooded his insides with renewed energy, giving him warmth and a strength that could only come from a fresh feeding.

Madam Pomfrey smiled, watching his eyes revert to their normal sparkling lilac. His fangs shortened retreating back into his gums. "There, that's better," she murmured soothingly.

He whipped his mouth, grinning like a drunken fool. "Thanks, Madam Pomfrey. That was close that time."

She gave him a frown. "I don't understand why you wait so long, Kevin."

He shrugged. "I can't let the others know that I practically thirst for blood on a regular basis. They know that I need blood, but they don't know how strong the thirst is. If they did…"

"I'm sure they'll still be your friends."

Kevin shook his head. "They probably would. I just… I would just rather we keep this on a need to know basis."

His withdrawn face brought back a memory of another young boy with similar colored, blond hair, also bearing a secret from his own set of friends. Her face softened and she agreed only on the condition that he didn't go so long, like this time, between feedings.With a smileKevin agreed, and not two minutes later he was walking down the second floor corridor on his way out of the school. He glanced at his watch. The Quidditch game had to be well in its way by now.

As he walked past Professor Quirrell's office, Kevin remembered he had a question for the professor. Last week Quirrell had assigned an essay but Quirrell being himself, forgot to mention how long he wanted it to be. Kevin neared the door that stood between two identical suits of shining silver armor. He raised his hand to knock then stopped. Frowning, Kevin placed his ear against the door. To a human the sounds coming from the room would be muffled, but Kevin was vampire. They were the creatures of the night, blessed with abilities that set them apart from their weaker prey, the humans. A deep hissing reached his ears followed by Quirrell's hysteric voice.

"Have you not found the way past that ssssssaditic hound to my sssssstone?" hissed the deep voice.

Kevin frowned harder, not recognizing the voice. Quirrell's voice soon followed the question. "N-n-no, M-my Lord."

Suddenly, the hissing grew louder and unrecognizable. It sounded angry and rushed. Kevin fell back as the door was wrenched open. He stared up into Quirrell's eyes and felt pure dread. They were glowing fiery red, as if the fires of Hell itself were burning in their depths.

"He'ssssssss heard too much," hissed the voice from nowhere. "Take the boy. Kill him."

Kevin said the only thing the situation called for: "Fuck that."

And he ran.

He ran full speed down the corridor. There wasn't a chance in hell that Quirrell was going to catch him. He swore mentally glimpsing the staircase ahead of him. The staircase to the ground floor was moving, changing floors. Putting on a burst of speed, Kevin leaped over the balcony railing. His arms flailed as he tried to remain upright in the air. Giving up, he just let the fall happen, and he dropped like a stone, landing on the bottom floor on his feet like a cat. He swept his hair back with his hand then took off again. Kevin's eyes widened, seeing Michael Corner come out of the ground floor bathroom. Quickly, he grabbed the boy's arm and continued to run. He half carried-half dragged, the poor boy past the Great Hall, and out of the Entrance Doors. They didn't stop till they appeared outside under the rays of the afternoon sun. Michael's feet became tangled under him and fell face first on the ground landing hard on his chest.

"Michael, come on!" said Kevin urgently, grabbing his arm trying to help him up. "We have to go!"

"Go where," Michael cried stubbornly in confusion. "How in the hell did you run so fast? What the hell is going on?"

"What's going on?" laughed Kevin a little hysterical. "Our Defense teacher is a fucking psycho. He's talking about cutting people up or some shit. We have to get help. He's probably near."

A dark figure swooped down on them with lightning speed. Quirrell appeared cloaked and eyes blazing red. He slapped Kevin to the ground and with the other hand; he swiped, with sharp, long nails, down the side of Michael's face. Blood and eye mucus sprayed everywhere as the nails dug into flesh, ripping deep, deep, gashes on the side of his face.

Quirrell's face looked nothing like it usually did. It was thinner, paler, and his bones could clearly be seen through the papery thin skin of his face. He cocked his head at Kevin, smiling, "I'm sorry I didn't hear you over the boy's screams and all. Did you say that he was near… or here."

Kevin lay sprawledagainst the ground on his back, staring up at the crazed professor with his mouth open in shock and horror. Michael, screaming bloody murder, blood dripping down his face, took shaky steps forward trying to run. Faster than Kevin could even follow, Quirrell's hand snapped out and snatched Michael back, holding his jaw in a harsh grip. Kevin didn't know why he couldn't move. His body seemed to be frozen in the spot. His eyes locked with Michael's. Lilac met blue in a stare. Michael, crying, screaming, fought with every ounce of strength his little body could muster. Quirrell tightened his grip on his jaw and Michael began to choke, clawing at the hand holding his face. Quirrell raised his arm, brining Michael up off the ground with the action. His toes scrapped against the grass, as his legs flailed about. Kevin gave a tiny scream, scrambling backward like a crab. A breaking sound reached his sensitive ears, the sound of Quirrell applying pressure on Michael's jaw, crushing bones and tearing ligaments.

Quirrell's red eyes bored into Michael's, as his mouth opened and his tongue came out, flickering, like a snake. "Halfling," he hissed, disgusted. "You're a dirty half blood. I can smell the muggle blood running through your unworthy body. You stink of it!"

Courage and adrenaline rushed through Kevin's body and he found he could move again. He couldn't let this monster do this any longer. His fangs appeared, and as he opened his mouth a low hiss erupted forth. Kevin crouched down staring at Quirrell with narrowed red eyes. Instantly his face began to transform. His skin took on a shiny, translucent sheen, his eyes glowed like liquid fire, and his now golden hair moved around in some unfelt wind. Kevin felt like a damn had been unblocked. While he always felt his vampiric powers flowing through his body, he kept them in check careful always of his strength and other abilities. Now there was nothing to hold him back from going all out.

Quirrell grinned slowly, like a feral animal. "Daywalker."

"Abomination," Kevin spat, growling low in his throat.

Kevin looked at Quirrell with the eyes of a creature of the night. He could feel, no taste, the waves of darkness that poured off his corrupted aura. To Kevin's enhanced vision, the air around him shimmered as if reality itself wasn't sure he should be in it. Kevin took a deep breath then immediately recoiled from the reptilian scent that came from Quirrell.

Quirrell gave a serpent like hiss then suddenly, his head ducked down to Michael's neck. Kevin sprang forward and Quirrell moved not even lifting his head. Kevin's eyes locked on Professor Quirrell's just as his teeth descended down upon Michael's neck. With a great wrench Quirrell ripped open the boy's neck at the jugular. Michael's blue eyes widened and his body convulsed and shook, as blood spilled everywhere like a powerfulwaterfall. Quirrell raised his head and chunks of flesh dripped from his grinning mouth. Slowly his mouth opened tongue extended, and he licked his lips, blazing redeyes slipping closed in sensual pleasure. Professor Quirrell dropped Michael's dead body letting him fall to the ground, his body crumbling like a broken doll. Michael landed on his back, lifeless blue eyes staring up into the sky.

"You bastard," Kevin whispered horrified.

Quirrell gave a low laugh that sent shivers down Kevin's spine. With a last smirk, he took off. His form was there then the next second he was sprinting across the grounds. Kevin chased after him. He didn't even think about it. His body reacted before he put thought into it. Their forms were blurs as they practically flew across the green grounds of Hogwarts. Quirrell was as fast if not faster than Kevin's vampire blessed speed. How was this possible, he had no idea, but Quirrell was successfully keeping ahead of him with no problem. The sun became shadowed and Kevin looked up, still running. They had ran into the Forbidden Forest, and he hadn't even realized it. Kevin shadowed Quirrell dodging, andducking trees and branches. This was nothing. He could do this in his sleep. His kind had been running through the forest stalking prey, since before humans had learned to master fire.

Dirt and leaves flew into the air as his feet planted in the ground, stopping his momentum. Kevin blinked, looking around the clearing he stood in. Tall, dark trees surrounded him on all sides. Kevin spun around in all directions, confused and bewildered. Quirrell had vanished. One second he had been there then the next he had simply disappeared.

Kevin grunted as a body connected solidly with his side sending himflying back, colliding solidlyinto a thicktree. The entire tree shook as Kevin hit it, sliding down, to land hard on his ass. He shook his head, clearing his eyes of the black spots. Growling saveagely,he was back on his feet running to the form of Quirrell, who walked confidently to meet him. They collided in mid air. Kevin threw a punch and his fist smashed into Quirrell's waiting hand. The sound of several of his bones breaking filled the air, and Kevin let out a pained filled scream. Quirrell took his arm and with an unnatural strength he twirled around, throwing Kevin like a rag doll into the brush. He slammed hard into the ground, winded and in more pain than he could ever remember being in. Shakily, Kevin stood up, blood dripping down the corner of his lip. Yelling like a raging beast,Kevin flew toward Quirrell. Dirt flew up behind him in a sidewayscyclone, as he moved faster than the blowing wind.

"Fuuuuckk youuuu!" he screamed, rearing back his arm and punching Quirrell solidly in the face.

Quirrell was about to laugh when the force of a speeding Volkswagen hit him square in the jaw. He rocketed backward into the air, landing only after hitting a tree, then breaking through it, hitting another one then stopping, the trunk cracked loudly with his collision.

Kevin stood his ground and crossed his arms. "Bastard."

Quirrell emerged from the rubble standing up. His form was battered and his face and body was covered in tiny scratches, where the bark had scratched off the top layers of skin. On his face was a dark colored area where it would surely form into a bruise in hour's time. Breathing heavily, Quirrell stared at Kevin with something that looked like amusement and anger mixed together. Kevin just balled his fist tighter, dug his feet harder into the ground, and bared his fangs in reply.

"Hmmmm," said Quirrell in a hollow voice. "It has been more than a decade since I have experienced pain… I have forgotten how… unpleasant the feeling is."

Kevin reeled back at this information. For the first time, he looked into Quirrell's blazing red eyes. He was different. Oh yeah, the killing people and being just a general psycho wasn't in character but there was more. His voice was different also. It sounded deeper, harder, and colder somehow.

"What are you?" whispered Kevin, with dawning realization that this was not just some dark wizard.

He laughed a loud, cold, chilling laugh that seemed to rub against Kevin's insides, making fear bubble deep within his gut. "What am I?" laughed Quirrell. "All I am is what I am. I lived seven lives at once. I was power and the ecstasy of death. I was god to a god. I was nightmare and darkness eternal, the ruler of this realm… Now, I'm bound to this shell, stuck in this vessel incapable of sustaining my true glory. I am…"

"Oh shut up, already!" snapped Kevin, looking at Quirrell in annoyance. "Stars! If I thought you were going to be speechifying I never would have asked. Nevermind then, forget I asked, oh ruler of this realm!"

Quirrell seemed suddenly to grow. He rose up, a great menacing shape like some shadow creature of old come to life. Kevin didn't let him have time to attack. Catching him off guard was his only option. With quickness Kevin pounced. He leaped the space of the clearing, jumping onto Quirrell. The startled man fell onto his back, howling in pain as Kevin's jaws latched onto his neck. His sharp fangs sank into skin drawing blood. He attempted to throw him off by bucking his hips, but Kevin slashed the side of his face with his nails, tearing off the top layer of skin. Suddenly, a black light built up around Quirrell and Kevin hissed, blocking his eyes. He screamed as the power overwhelmed him. This force or whatever it happened to be, was greater than he. It was old, ancient, something that shouldn't be in the world today. It built up in intensity then in a flash it filled the clearing, throwing Kevin off Quirrell's body, and across the clearing. Kevin slumped to the ground and knew no more as darkness claimed him, shutting him out from the world.

When he awoke the clearing was empty and the sun rode low in the sky. Groaning, holding his head, he stumbled to his feet. Kevin grabbed the tree as vertigo claimed him, his surroundings blurred and spun around him. All of a sudden, his stomach lurched and he heaved. The entire contents of his stomach emptied out of his mouth, landing on the ground. Some of it splashed against the front of his robes. Without paying attention to his surroundings, Kevin wandered out of the forest, thankful that anything didn't try and attack him. He was not in the frame of mind to be fighting anything. He came around the back of the school, entering through the doors that Hagrid usually used when he tended to the gardens near the greenhouses. With heavy steps, Kevin made his way up the stairs to the Ravenclaw dorm room.

"Times like these, I wish I would hurry up and get my flight powers," he whispered miserably.

The right side of his body felt like hell, his left side of his face was bruised, and his legs felt stiff and sore. His hand was sore but the bones were not broken anymore. That happens when you get smacked up like someone's bitch. It wasn't too bad, however. If he had been human then he would assuredly be worse off. Another plus was, thanks to being a preternatural being he would be fully healed by tomorrow.

Strangely, the hallways were unusually empty of anyone. He had to get his friends and tell the professors what happened. Quirrell was a psycho and Michael was dead…

"Free your mind," he mumbled at the mirror, watching as the glass became watery.

Stepping through, he was greeted by the sight of dozens of pairs of wide eyes and open mouths. Screams filled the room as he opened his mouth to ask what was wrong. He swore inwardly realizing that he was in his true form and they were seeing his face. It didn't strike him to think that blood, both his and Quirrell's, covered the front of his ruined robes that were dirty, torn, and ripped to almost shreds.

He cocked his head as, out of nowhere, Roger Davies pointed an accusing finger at him. "He's a fucking vampire! He killed Michael Corner!"….

Kevin took a deep breath and looked around the room. "And that's exactly what happened," he said, finishing his tale.

Roger let out a little sarcastic chuckle. "Do you really expect us to believe that Professor Quirrell, the teacher who asked me how to spell orange last week, really killed Michael Corner?" Roger looked around the room. "Who here thinks the vampire is making it up?"

Half the room raised their hands…

Harry cleared his throat. "Who here, thinks Roger is a dumbass, and believes Michael?"

The other half raised their hands…

Roger looked around the room, his eyes furious. "Somebody get me a sharp piece of wood, I'll stake this vamp myself!"

"I think that the role of eradicator is not yours, Mister Davies."

They all looked toward the portal behind Kevin. Professor's Dumbledore, Snape, Flitwick, and three wizards wearing badges over their hearts, stood in the portal doorway. They stared at Kevin with neutral expressions. The three wizards, all male, had their wands out and trained on Kevin. They were all brunettes, of various body builds; but their stances screamed training of defensive and offensive skills. Harry assessed the man with a guarded look. They looked like the policemen of the muggle realm but instead of guns they had wands.

"Mr. Entwhistle, please come with us. These areHit Wizardsand they're here from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement of the Ministry of Magic."

"We'll take it from here, Professor," said the tallest one. He looked down upon Kevin and spoke precisely in a clipped tone, "You are under arrest, Kevin Entwhistle, for the murder of one Michael Adam Corner, and also for the assault and attempted murder of one, Quintein Quirinus Quirrell."

No one knew what to say. This wasn't some regular professor. This was Professor Dumbledore, the Headmaster, and the law was on his side. Harry opened his mouth to shout "hell no" but Kevin caught his eyes and shook his head. Harry's mouth snapped closed, and he watched with the others, as they escorted Kevin from the room.

Silence was left in their wake. Harry walked to Roger. With cold eyes he stared up at the older boy. Roger stared back, not intimidated in the slightest. Without warning, Harry reared back his arm and hit Roger in the nose using the heel of his hand. The sound of his nasal bone breaking was satisfying, but he was still pissed. He barely paid a mind to the people who rushed to Roger's side. He ignored the shouting and cursing of those standing up.

Harry gave Terry a tired look. "I'm going to bed."

He walked up the stairs to his dorm. The slam of the door reverberated through the entire common room. Terry sighed, staring around the room, tuning out the sudden loudness of everyone talking back and forth. The question on his mind was the same as everyone else's…

… _Was Kevin telling the truth?_

* * *

The room was dark. It wasn't a room but an amphitheater, filled with rows of people, all dressed in wizarding robes. Sitting behind a judge's bench was a line of stern faced men and women. They were elderly and their expressions were harsh and unyielding. A spotlight shined down from the ceiling illuminating one form in the center of the room. The figure was none other than Kevin Entwhistle. He was tied to a stake, body bound by glowing ropes of tightly tied ribbon. The judge in the middle, with his cold gray eyes, and long graying hair began to speak to those in the amphitheater.

"Vampires have always been dangerous creatures," began the center judge. "We all know this. I think that time has let us forget. And that my fellow wizards and witches is what brings us here. Days ago, a young wizard boy was murdered by this creature, that is why we bring to trial, Kevin Entwhistle, heir to the Entwhistle bloodline, last descendent of the Vampire Master, Nickolaos."

A young woman with hair held back by a simple hair clip stepped forward. She wore a black duster over a pair of blue jeans and a white top. Her blond hair shined even in the semi dark room. She turned to the crowd, addressing those present with a commanding voice. "I am Angelita DeMarco, the Eradicator, and today I have come to serve justice. The vampire, Kevin Entwhistle, is guilty of the following crimes—" She produced a silver stake from the folds of her jacket. "The assault and attempted murder of Quintein Quirinus Quirrell—"

She stabbed Kevin in the right side of his chest with the stake. Kevin's screams was muffled by the roaring of the crowd. They weren't cheering. They were roaring chants of death and pleasure of justice being served. Angelita shook her head at the screaming. Her eyes closed and she took a deep breath before continuing. "The murder of Michael Adam Corner—"

Their eyes locked.

A tear slipped down her cheek and she stabbed him in his heart.

'I'm sorry," she mouthed, head turning, as Kevin looked heavenward.

His body rapidly deteriorated, then quickly before their eyes, turned to dust…

Harry snapped up in bed, holding his rapidly beating heart, "Holy shit…"

* * *

Breakfast the next morning was a solem affiar. Harry sat at the Ravenclaw table glaring around at the whispering, gossiping students. Hogwarts being Hogwarts, naturally no secret was left safe. Word spread like wildfire of Harry's boldness and Kevin's 'story'. Most of the school thought he was lying and those that believed him were too few. Right now the student body was segregating those that believed Kevin. They were pushed in the hallways, teased, and taunted to the point of peaking anger. Harry looked up at the Staff Table. Quirrell was supposedly still in the Hospital Wing getting treated, leaving the rest of the staff to sit at the table with somber faces. The Ravenclaws were the quietest table. They talked, but it wasn't in normal tones, because for them the death of Michael was all too near.

Harry along with his fellow Ravenclaws had all worn black today in remembrance for their fallen eagle. Harry wore black slacks, turtleneck, and black Nikes. Over this he wore his black duster. It wasn't a fashion statement. Under the jacket was hidden his guns secured in holsters, and his knives adorned his forearms. After what happened to Michael yesterday there was no way he was going out unarmed. He sat there, sitting still, staring lifelessly at his food. There was no way he could stomach food. Not after the nightmare that had awoken him.

"Harry, you there?" asked Terry, interrupting him from his musing.

Harry started, blinking quickly, focusing his attention on Terry. "Yeah, I'm here. I was just thinking. Last night I had a dream…"

Terry leaned forward, curious. "Dream? What type of dream? What happened in it?"

"Well," Harry sighed, trailing off. "I'll tell you later alright. You'll see why."

Terry nodded accepting his answer. He swept a hang through his hair. The black locks kept falling into his eyes, making him curl his lips up in annoyance. He usually wore his hair spiked up, but today wearing it in such style seemed wrong… When he woke this morning, he didn't have the heart to go the bathroom and fix himself up. Not while one of his friends was in jail and another was dead. How could he pretend like this was any other normal day at Hogwarts?

Professor Dumbledore stood up and began to say a few words in remembrance of Michael. Harry wasn't listening. He was still going over his dream. Coming to a decision, he turned to three people, sitting in different places in the hall. Carefully, he mouthed to them. It took near eight times before they each got the message word for word, only without actual words. They nodded in answer then turned back to their housemates. No one noticed any of this silent communication going on. Everyone was deeply involved in their own little conversations.

He tuned back into the world as Cho Chang stood in front of the Staff Table facing the room. Her long, straight black hair was tied back and a simple, black knee length dress covered her body. "—friend. I want to sing a lament for him. This is for you, Michael." She took a deep breath then began.

Cho's soft voice was a beautiful soprano. Her sorrowful tones brought out the beauty of the song she crafted, moving everyone. Harry closed his eyes, just letting the music wash over him. Her melodious voice touched something within them all. Their very souls felt uplifted with the words filling the hall. Girls sobbed and friends of Michael's shed silent tears, as the lyrics inspired within memories of times past.

Cho bowed her head, and whispered a soft, "Thank you".

Her reply was a roar of deafening clapping from every student and teacher present. She nodded in thanks, wearing a small smile, and then walked back to her seat at the Ravenclaw table between Roger and Marietta.

* * *

"I guess you all know I asked you here for a reason."

Seated next to the lake outside Hogwarts was a group of children. Hermione and Riley sat side by side, their long hair fluttering in the wind. Beside them sat Terry and Draco Malfoy. The pale Slytherin looked out of place next to the dark haired children but he didn't let it show. His face was the picture of placidness. A Malfoy didn't show emotions easily. The sun was fully out shining light down onto their meeting.

Harry stood before them duster billowing in the blowing wind. "There is something you all should know about me before we begin. I… have blessed sight."

"I read about that," said Hermione, quickly. "It's supposed to be really rare."

Riley raised her eyebrow. "What is blessed sight? Sounds like a rock band to me."

Draco cocked his head, mouthing 'rock band' but answered the question. "Basically, Harry can see things others cannot. Say someone tried to sneak into the school wearing someone else's face, using a potion. Harry would see right through it but others wouldn't."

Harry nodded. "That's right. Well, there is something that I have been 'seeing' since school started, but I never acted on it. I wasn't sure if I was being deluded or what. I had to be sure. Yesterday, I was proven right. I know you guys have all heard the story Kevin told. Hogwarts doesn't believe in secrets."

"The story of where Kevin blamed Quirrell?" asked Riley. At Harry's nod, she replied, "Yeah, we've all heard it."

Harry took a deep breath, digging his hands into his pockets. "I think Kevin was telling the truth. Since school began I've been getting nothing but evil vibes off Professor Quirrell. I kept it to myself, since I could have been imagining it, but now I know I was right. He's pure evil, guys. You haven't felt what I felt. There is a power surrounding him. A power that just feels…" he paused searching for the right word. "Wrong."

Hermione shook her head, bushy hair shaking with the action, frowning she asked, "Why haven't you told any of the Professors, Harry?"

"Who in the hell would believe me?" he snapped sarcastically. "Does Quirrell come off as a little bit dangerous to you? I needed hard proof." He sighed. "With Michael's death, I got the proof I need."

Draco picked up what Harry was not saying. He cocked his head, giving his friend a long look. "What do you want us to do?"

"Help clear Kevin's name."

Terry looked up and spoke for the first time since they walked outside. "How are we supposed to do that?" He looked ahead at the lapping waves of the lake. "The oceans are restless and the rivers are in turmoil. Something bad is going to happen," he said in a soft monotone. "They song of the blue has notes of destruction in its symphony."

The four of them blanched. Harry quickly explained to them, as basically as he could, that Terry was a Water Oracle. Terry blinked breaking free of his trance. Taking a deep breath, he re-centered his body and mind.

"Harry," Terry said, grimly. "I suggest you come up with a plan quick. Quirrell is planning to do something that can change the face of the world. I got flashes of Hell itself coming to our door and swallowing us whole."

Harry gulped; face a shade whiter, he took a deep breath. Calm. He had to stay calm. He locked out his feelings for now and switched into survival mode. He had to tell them what he had planned. His face went slack and emotion free. Harry stared at them with blankness. They tried to read his eyes, but it was impossible. The emerald green depths were simply empty. It was similar to how a lion looked caged at the zoo. His eyes were blank and looked non-threatening, but rouse it and it would unleash the beast within.

"Listen, I'm sick of waiting on the sidelines. The teachers are stupid fools. I suspect that Snape or even Matheson thinks Quirrell is faking his dumb act, but they haven't done anything," he said, scowling. "That's why we must do something. I'm going to get Professor Dumbledore and we are going to confront Quirrell. Of course, this isn't going to happen. I doubt that the Headmaster will even believe me."

"So what are we going to do?" asked Riley.

Harry looked around meeting each of their eyes. "We are going to split up then in two hours we are going to storm in Quirrell's office and _make_ him tell the truth."

Draco shook his head. He looked at Harry then at everyone else. "You just said yourself that Quirrell was powerful and plus he's a fully trained wizard. We're a bunch of kids."

Hermione nodded her head agreeing. Riley and Terry on the other hand shared a look with Harry. They both knew fully well what the _boy who lived_ was capable of. Harry touched a hand to the plain, silver ring adorning his finger. The same ring that Riley had given him as a Christmas present. He never took it off just like he never took off the Celtic cross that belonged to his mother. He looked at Riley and she nodded subtly. She was in. Terry met his eyes. He was in.

Harry looked to Hermione and Draco, forcing a smile on his face. "Forget I said anything. I'll just tell Dumbledore and let him take care of it," he said, sheepishly. "We have no hope of ever beating Quirrell. He is, after all, a fully trained wizard."

Hermione sighed in relief. "Thank goodness. Harry, I'm sure if you inform Professor Dumbledore of what you see in Quirrell he'll back you up."

"No offense, Harry, but we are way over our heads. Granger is right. Tell the Headmaster," said Draco, standing up. The others followed, they too, rising to their feet.

"I will," smiled Harry.

They talked a bit more than broke apart, walking together to the castle. Terry and Riley met his eyes as they walked to the castle doors. "Two hours," Harry mouthed silently, watching as they nodded. Once they entered the castle the five of them split apart, going their separate ways. After a promise from Hermione to tell Dumbledore, Harry set off. He would tell Dumbledore alright, but it was not like the man was going to believe him. Quirrell was the one who had shown up yesterday beat up, while Kevin looked the better off. Plus, he being a vampire didn't add to anyone's empathy.

Harry's black duster trailed behind him as he briskly walked to the Headmaster's office. The stone gargoyle that guarded the entrance glared at him when he stepped in front of it. Harry blew out a breath. He didn't have the password. He swore aloud, kicking the gargoyle at the base of its crouched legs.

"Listen, It. I don't have time for this. I have to talk to the Headmaster. It's fucking important," Harry snapped, glaring.

Amazingly, the gargoyle leaped to the side and the wall behind the statue split apart, opening quickly.

Harry's mouth formed into an o. It worked. Maybe it being password protecting was just a joke. He ran up the spiraling staircase, then down the narrow hallway at the top, before finally getting to the oak door that led into the office. Harry knocked once then twisted the knob opening the door. Light streamed in from the arched windows, throwing oblong rays of sunshine down upon the wood floor. Harry looked around.

"Hello, Professor Dumbledore?" Harry called into the silence of the room.

Silence.

There was no one here. Harry walked to the Headmaster's desk. A piece of white caught his eye. He reached down and picked up the letter sitting in the middle of the professor's desk. It was a summons from the Ministry of Magic. They wanted Dumbledore to give a statement of what he witnessed yesterday at the crime scene. Sighing, Harry felt a pang thud in his heart as he thought of Kevin. If his dream was prophetic then Kevin wouldn't survive his trial. He couldn't, no wouldn't, let that happen. Not to Kevin, his friend. Quirrell had to be brought to justice. He couldn't get away with this.

"Where in the hell is Quirrell anyway?" muttered Harry.

Suddenly, the air above the desk's surface flashed with a blue light. Above the desk appeared a flat, holographic map of Hogwarts and its surrounding grounds. Wide eyed, Harry stared down at the map of light in amazement. A blinking red light caught his attention. It was located in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom moving around as if searching for something. Below the dot was the label, _Q. Quirrell_.

"Going somewhere," whispered Harry in the silence of the empty room.

Harry realized with a start that he couldn't just let Quirrell leave. Who knows where he was going. He could be trying to leave the country, then they would never be able to clear Kevin's name, and he would die. Harry waved his hand at the map and it vanished. He couldn't wait on his friends. There was no time. Closing his eyes, Harry came to a decision. There was no choice. He would do this himself. Harry was armed with his two pistols and his knives. If worse came to worse, Harry would just put a bullet in Quirrell's head and worry about consequences later.

Quirrell had messed with the one thing Harry had few of… friends. When you fuck with Harry's friends. You fucked with him. Harry exited the office, feeling himself anticipate the coming battle with each footstep.

'_Ready or not, here I come.' _

* * *

Some of you probably recognize the words Quirrell was saying. They come from my favorite villain next in to Glory. I have to be in work in an hour so I'll give you a peek for the next chapter. Harry will confront Quirrell and finally come face to face with Voldemort. Powers, wills, and bullets will fly.


	16. Power is the Key

D1isclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter either. It belongs to its creator J.K. Rowling and probably Warner Bros. too. I'm not too sure about that. This piece of literature is simply the work of a humble fan. I also credit Laurell K. Hamilton for various themes, subjects, or references that I may use. It won't be a crossover but certain elements from the series will be used.

* * *

:Author Notes:

This will be leaning more toward alternate reality. It will have the same characters just a different spin on things. If you're not a fan or strong cursing or maybe even violence and bloodshed then there is a good chance that this story isn't for you.

* * *

" Nearly all men can stand adversity, but if you want to test a man's character, give him power." Abraham Lincoln, _Past President of the United States of America_

Potter

Chapter Fifteen: Power is the Key

By: Water Mage

Harry felt his heart beat steady as he neared the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. This was it. There was no turning back now. He reached out and pushed the door open. With a low squeak, the heavy door swung open. Cautiously, Harry slowly stepped into the room. The window shutters were drawn, leaving the room blanketed in darkness, and only the dim glow of the floating candles in the corner gave the room light. Digging about inside of an old, wardrobe closest was Professor Quirrell with his back facing Harry. Perfect.

"Um hmm," Harry uttered, clearing his throat to get attention.

There was a bang and a cry of pain, then Quirrell spun around, eyes wide, and face startled. "Harry!" he cried, holding his heart. "How-how-nice of you-to-to-to visit."

Harry crossed his arms and gave a brief nod. His eyes flicked down to the large, open duffel bag filled to the brim with clothes and books, near Quirrell's feet. "Going somewhere?"

Quirrell gulped, shaking his head, he replied, "Heavens-heavens-no. I-I-I am merely tidying up!"

Harry raised an eyebrow, keeping his face carefully blank. "Oh?"

Professor Quirrell discreetly pushed the bag, behind his desk, out of eyesight with his shoe. Keeping his eyes on Harry, the Professor leaned against the edge of the desk, his face as blank as Harry's. But there was one difference. His eyes. Harry could read his eyes and his eyes gave him away. They always did. Right now, those brown eyes were showing nervousness, fear, determination, and rage. A rage hidden and masked so deep that Harry almost missed it, but there was no mistaken the rage that was directed solely toward him. All that rage was just for him. Goody. It made him feel all warm and… tingly inside.

"What-what-can I-I do for you?" asked Quirrell, regarding Harry with a shaky smile.

Harry slid his hands into his pockets. Feeling the cool handle of the Beretta 10mil fit comfortably into his grip, he sighed inaudibly. There, now he felt a little bit better. He bored his emerald eyes into Quirrell's, keeping his face unreadable and blank. This was one of the looks that never failed to creep people out. Keeping his eyes on the Professor, Harry ran his finger along the edge of the tabletop near him. He knew that Quirrell was waiting on his response. But hey, what could he say, he had a flair for dramatics.

"I've felt the dark power coming from you all year," said Harry, quietly.

"What are you—"

Harry continued talking as if he hadn't heard. "I didn't tell anyone, because frankly, no one would believe me. I was simply going to let it go. But now…" Harry's eyes narrowed, gazing at Quirrell, who was shaking. "Now, no more. You hurt one of mine and that doesn't go without a price. I'm giving you this chance now to confess to killing Michael. I _know_ you did it. If you don't tell the truth they're going to trial and kill Kevin."

Quirrell shook his head quickly. "No, I didn't do it. It was that friend of yours, the vampire."

Harry eyes, if possible, narrowed further. Where in the hell did his stutter go? "Kevin would never kill I know this for a fact," argued Harry. "You did it, I know you did. You're not even normal—" he stopped. He gazed at Quirrell in a long stare and continued coldly. "You're something else. A darkness lies within you. A power so old and terrifying that even right now I can feel it consume you, eating away at your essence, your soul."

Professor Quirrell's demeanor changed, his body stiffened and his head tilted to one side. Harry took a startled breath. Did his eyes just flash red? _What the hell_, Harry thought, staring at the Professor, who was standing straighter and glaring at Harry. _He seems like a different person,_ Harry noted, still staring in stupefaction.

"You and the rest of the spawn in this hive have no idea what power is," stated Quirrell, glaring.

Harry noticed that his voice had changed also. It sounded deeper, hollow, somehow as if someone else was speaking through him. Was this the source of the power that resided within Quirrell, Harry wondered. The power that he sensed was it some separate entity that slumbered, waiting, bidding its time for the right moment to rear its head and wake. Harry cleared his suddenly dry throat.

"Oh? Last time I checked I had the power here," said Harry. "All I have to do is tell everyone what you really are and entire wizarding world will come down on your ass for what you did to Michael."

Quirrell laughed, and then slowly like a predator, he stalked forward. Harry took a step back, keeping his hand inside his pocket. He could bet that his knuckles were white now, because he was holding the gun inside the pocket tightly in a death grip. Quirrell was really starting to unnerve him. This change or whatever the hell it was, seriously threw off his whole plan that he formed in his mind. No matter, if he had to adapt and think on the fly then he would adept. No way in hell was a _teacher_ that couldn't even spell orange going to get the best of him.

Quirrell cocked his head, staring at Harry, curiously. "You really think that you hold the power," he said in his deep voice, which resonated through the empty classroom. A sneer twisted across his lips. "How amusing... An eleven year old half-blood. Is this all that challenges me now?"

"What do you mean, now? Who, or what, are you?" asked Harry, clapping mentally that he managed to keep his voice from shaking. He was scared but the hell if was going to let it show.

Professor Quirrell, no, he was someone else, Harry reminded himself, as the man took a step forward in Harry's direction. "You can't even imagine all that I am. And soon, I will be as I once was. Immortal. Idol of millions and God King of the magic realm."

"You aren't Professor Quirrell are you?" Harry asked in a tense voice.

'Quirrell' shook his head. "You speak of the vessel that is rotted through. He is nothing but the shell, I am all that remains."

"Whatever," said Harry, frowning. "Then I guess I won't feel bad for doing this." The Beretta was pulled out, safety off, and round chambered before 'Quirrell' could even blink. Harry had the gun out and pointed directly at his heart. Just in case he was a vampire, Harry doubted he was, at least the shot would slow him down.

'Quirrell' slowly let a mocking smile take over his face. "Has things changed so much since my absence that children are now the tools of the law." His head cocked questioningly. "Is this where I am told to freeze?"

"No," said Harry, and he shot him.

The bullet spun him around, so that he collapsed against the wall. Harry shot again as 'Quirrell' slid down the wall falling to the ground to land on his back. Harry creped closer, gun held in a two handed grip. The first shot had been rushed; not lethal, he had missed the heart, but the second one was a solid body shot. Blood gurgled up from 'Quirrell's' lips, falling down the sides of his face, and coating the front of the blue robes he wore. His turban, the mass of white wrap, had slipped from his head, landing on the puddle of rapidly spreading blood. Long, brown hair had spilled free from the confinement of the turban and surrounded 'Quirrell's' head like a halo. Harry circled wide, so he could get a clear head shot. He had no desire to get to close to the bleeding man. He didn't care how helpless he looked; Harry was not going to take any chances. 'Quirrell' first and foremost was an unknown variable. Right now he was at the top of Harry's list of people who was not to be taken lightly. Until 'Quirrell' was dead, Harry was going to be on his guard.

'Quirrell' lay on his back and bled. He managed to cough blood, and clear his throat enough to say, "I thought you pure mortals had to give warning first. Is that not how Law Sorcerers work?"

Harry went to that place in his mind. The place where there was nothing but white noise and no feelings. No regrets. No guilt. Calmly, hands steady, Harry sighted on his forehead just above the eyes. "I'm neither pure nor am I a Law Sorcerer, _Professor_; I'm the son of Death."

"What?" said 'Quirrell', face confused, blood covering the entire lower half of his face.

Harry pulled the trigger and didn't even wince when most of Quirrell's face exploded into a mess of bone and blood that left him unrecognizable. Slowly, Harry reached up with one hand and wiped at the speckles of blood that splattered against the right side of his face. All the while he stared at Quirrell, thinking, the whole time there hadn't been a trace of fear or true pain on his face. Harry looked around at the bloody mess. How in the hell was he going to explain this without incriminating himself. He had to get out of here. His father, he had to tell his dad. He would know what to do. Harry turned around and headed toward the door.

"No weapon of human creation shall ever beat me down," spoke a hollow, low voice.

Harry slowly turned around: "No fucking way."

He turned about just soon enough to stare into blazing red eyes, as fiery as the morning sun, before a backhanded blow struck him across the face, sending him clear across the room, and into unconsciousness.

* * *

Harry opened his eyes then immediately regretted the action as the world spun around him. He waited for the flashes of white behind his eyelids to disappear then he tried again. He took in his surroundings his vision blurring and dimming, but growing stronger every second his eyes stayed open. Harry quickly assessed the situation. He was tied, sitting down, to a pillar with heavy iron chains. He looked around the large chamber he was in. It was a huge, circular room with stone walls and tall, long pillars bordering the walls. In the middle of the chamber was a tall, grand mirror with a gold frame, containing a tiny inscription along the top. Harry squinted but even with contacts he couldn't make out the words. Struggling, Harry tried to wiggle free from the chains tying him to the pillar, but they were holding him tightly in place around his midsection.

"There is no use in struggling, boy," said the deep voice that was seriously starting to grate on his nerves. "You are bound to that pillar as I am bound to this carcass."

'Quirrell' rounded a pillar his face slack with a stoic expression. Harry's eyes ran up and down his form. 'Quirrell's' brown hair that looked healthy before was now rough and course. Red streaks went through his long, rough hair framing his face. Starting at his upper-forehead and rimming his face, going down to his neck, were stark red veins, dark like paint against his pale white skin. His eyes once a plain brown were now a fiery red like the depths of hell itself, even his lips looked redder. Instead of the bloodstained robes from earlier, 'Quirrell' now wore a long, flowing robe of dark green with an equally long, silver cape fastened at his collarbone.

"So," said Harry, wincing at the cut he could feel on his bottom lip. "You aren't Professor Quirrell, so who in the hell are you?"

"You would not remember would you…" spoke 'Quirrell' hollowly. "I am the one who did this realm favor by squashing out the mudblood-muck. Like Mayflies who die so soon after they're born, they might as well not live at all."

Harry shrugged. "I asked who you are..." he replied sarcastically. "What's with all the speechifying?"

"Can you not guess?" stated 'Quirrell' quietly. "…I am the one who gave you that scar."

"…Voldemort…" spoke Harry in an amazed whisper, staring up at the man who murdered his parents with new eyes. His heart stopped. He was sure it did. It was if he tried to spell two plus two in his mind and got eight, and got slapped for having the wrong answer.

Voldemort scowled down at him, red eyes boring into his being. "You would presume to speak my name without my proper title," he spat, angrily. "Because I have returned in the body of a mortal, you think that you can speak equally to me. It's disgusting, just the same as the filthy blood in your veins."

"This whole time," said Harry, mouth dry. "It was you… You were the one… This whole year it was you. The voice in my head. The one in my dreams. It was you all along."

Harry closed his eyes as the world spun on its axis. This was not right. Voldemort wasn't supposed to be alive. His parents did not sacrifice themselves in vain for this piece of shit bastard to still breathe. Anger clouded Harry's mind as he thought of his parents dying for nothing. Slowly his eyes opened and he stared icily up at Voldemort, no longer scared. He was pissed and he was feeling a little brave. A truly bad combination to have while trying to survive a psychotic wizard with a god complex.

"What the fuck are you still doing alive you muggle hating bastard," said Harry in a defiant, hard voice.

Voldemort gave him a mocking smile. Then he turned on his heel to stand near the mirror in the middle of the room. He stood on the side of the mirror, gazing at it, running his pale finger against the glass's flat surface. Slowly, he turned his red gaze back on Harry.

"Can your feeble mind process what a Sorcerers Stone is?" questioned Voldemort in that bland, deep voice.

Harry frowned, remembering the old tale. "That's just a myth. You don't honestly believe in magical stones that turn metal to gold and creates elixirs of immortality…" He stopped then fixed an incredulous stare at him. "You do, don't you! You honestly believe it's real."

"Believe? I know," replied Voldemort coldly. "Cant you feel it? Even with your droplets of magic surely you can feel the hum of power coming from the mirror."

Harry gasped. "I do feel something… I feel you're a fucking psycho!"

Suddenly, the Dark Lord blurred and Harry blinked as the wizard was directly in front of him. He braced himself seeing Voldemort's hand reach out at him. He twisted at the last moment trying to evade the hand and the front of his shirt slipped down revealing his mother's Celtic cross. There was a sound like the soft twinkling of ringing bells then suddenly the cross began to pulse with a white light. Both Harry and Voldemort stared at the cross, one in confusion the other in amazement, but both completely baffled as to what was happening. Voldemort, mesmerized, reached out to touch the glowing, pulsing cross. The sound of bells came again and then instantly the cross flared and a beam of intense white light shot out striking the Dark Lord in the chest with the force of meteor. The beam carried him across the room. Voldemort collided into a pillar, cracking it down the center. Harry's mouth dropped open. He looked to the cross that was no longer glowing and then at Voldemort who was lying on the ground, on his back, robes charred, and smoke rising up from his form.

_Oh, hell yeah!_ Harry thought, sending mental prayers of thanks to his mother.

Slowly, Voldemort rose to his feet. His robes despite being a little singed were still in good shape. His eyes narrowed as he stalked toward Harry. This time he stopped a foot away from him. Good idea. Coolly, he ran his eyes up and down Harry as he sat there on the ground chained to the pillar.

"You are quite the puzzle, _'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord' _I can nearly perceive," Voldemort muttered surveying Harry with a calculating look. "Maybe… Yes, I'm sure the mirror was designed for one of you spawn of this hive."

Harry stared at him, giving him an _are__ you mental_ look. "What brand of crack do you smoke, really? I understand nothing you say."

Voldemort shook his head. "You really are an unusual vermin. First, you have magicless weapons made by _muggles_" he spat the last word out with a tone full of hate and disdain. "…An object of holy power, infused with magic of old… and a mouth of one years older than you. You are quite the enigma."

"Well what can I say," smiled Harry, showing teeth, just to annoy him. "A magician, like a prostitute, never reveals his tricks."

Voldemort made a slashing moment with his hand, muttering inaudible words under his breath. Harry was about to ask has he finally lost his mind, but he stopped as suddenly his chain with the cross broke free from his neck, fell to ground, then slid rapidly out of sight into the shadowed corners. Harry itched to reach his guns but his arms were bound to tightly for him to break free or even wiggle out. Voldemort slashed the air with his hand again. Harry cried out as invisible talons tore down his chest, ripping fabric and skin, leaving bloody, deep gashes. Harry blinked back the tears of pain, biting his tongue, doing everything he could to prevent the howl of agony from erupting free of his throat. No way would he give the demented asshole the pleasure of hearing him cry out. Voldemort snapped his fingers and Harry's weapons materialized near a pillar across the room, close to wear his cross slid to. He snapped again and the chains broke on their own accord. Harry was suddenly gripped by an invisible hand that lifted him up and dragged, toes scrapping the ground, blood dripping along the way, to Voldemort who stood near the mirror.

"You will do," said Voldemort shortly, staring him in critically.

Harry breathing heavily in pain, gasped out, "I'm not your bloody servant so kill me already."

"I need you first before I terminate your life," replied Voldemort coolly. "I require the stone so that I can return to my true form and leave this pitiful body that is incapable of sustaining my true glory. Now, look into the mirror and tell me what you see."

Harry looked into the mirror and almost choked on his tongue. He could see his father and a squad of Archangels storm into the room. Words were spoken, guns were drawn, and then as one every single angel, including his father, fired at will into Voldemort. They didn't stop till they emptied their clips, and he was nothing but a mass of bleeding unrecognizable flesh, guts, and parts upon the stone floor. His father turned to the mirror-Harry and enveloped him in a crushing hug. Dylan and Todd disengaged themselves from the firing squad, stood over mirror-Voldemort's body and fired five more times before going to the father and son. Harry shook his head, eyes wide, as he stared at the mirror.

"Well, what do you see?" snapped Voldemort, his impatience finally showing.

Harry turned to the Dark Lord. He was still trapped in the invisible grip that prevented him from moving from his place in front of the mirror. He gave a little careless shrug that he knew pissed off Voldemort a little more. Taking his time, Harry cleared his throat then smiled at Voldemort, his eyes glinting with an evil light.

"I saw my father. He's going to come," said Harry, his smile fading into a cold smirk. "And when he gets here he's going to kick your ass."

This time when the invisible strike came, tearing at his flesh, Harry did scream. He screamed so loudly that his lungs burned, as the invisible talons ripped open his abdomen, blood splattering to the floor. Harry sunk to his knees, as the invisible hand released him. Holding his stomach, tears of pain trailed down his cheeks. Blood spilled down his robes, pooling around him on the ground in a warm puddle of red mess. Breathing, more like gasping for air, Harry shivered as the room suddenly turned colder. The room wasn't getting colder but simply his body temperature was lowering from the loss of so much blood. Lightning quick, Voldemort reached out his hand and grabbed Harry's throat in a death grip. That's when things went to hell. At once, Harry felt a blinding, searing pain in his scar. Harry screamed and struggled, and to his surprise Voldemort let him go. Tired, gasping, vision blurring; as stars danced behind his eyelids, Harry looked at Voldemort— who was looking at his hand, which was burned beyond recognition. Patches of skin was burned completely off, revealing raw muscle tissue.

Grimacing in pain, the Dark Lord gazed at Harry with pure and utter rage.

If Harry was coherent enough at the moment he would have smiled and given him the finger. But the blood loss and the pain from his scar had caused him to feel lightheaded. Wondering what the hell just happened was his last thought before his eyes closed and he tilted backward fainting away.

He was floating.

Was he dead, Harry wondered, as he groggily opened his eyes.

He was indeed floating in a sea of water or was it outer space. He couldn't tell. Light came from nowhere and yet everywhere at the same time not illuminating yet illuminating this unknown place. Harry looked down and he realized that he was naked. Not a stripe of cloth covered him anywhere. Normally, this would have bothered him, of course, but here and now it didn't matter. Nothing mattered here. Here in this place in this time he felt serene, loved. Nothing bad could happen to him here. He was safe here.

"Harold…"

"Harold…"

Harry opened his eyes again at the sound of his name. He squinted at the bright light that manifested in the middle of space in front of him. The light was white and almost blinding but yet it carried power with it, which made a shiver run down his spine. The light flared suddenly, and in its wake was a person. A man. A man who had a golden aura surrounding him. He was neither old nor young, his was face timeless. His eyes held a knowledge that spoke of lifetimes passed, ages walked, and time long gone by. His long white hair and golden robes fluttered softly in some unfelt breeze. What startled Harry the most was his brow. On his forehead was a lightning bolt shaped mark that was glowing a soft golden color. The glowing mark was the exact replica of the scar that marred Harry's own brow. A sense of familiarity struck Harry suddenly from inside his very core. He knew this man. He did, but somehow he couldn't remember where from…

"Hello, Harold," smiled the man. "Do you know who I am?"

Harry shook his head. He would have replied verbally but words seemed to fail him at the moment.

The man, still smiling, replied, "I am the chief god of your mother's people."

"Dagda?" questioned Harry, eyes widening. "You're Dagda."

Dagda nodded with that ever-present serene smile still on his face. "Yes, I am Dagda. The dark one you are fighting against cannot be beaten using normal means. In his past search for power he made a pact with an ancient demon, an Old One. Now they are joined. The power that he channels is old, powerful, and unlike any other in the world." Dagda's smile had slipped during his tale, replaced now with a frown. "That is why you must also use an ancient power to contest his dark power."

"I don't have any power," Harry protested. "Not counting that whole See the Unseen thing, the glowing cross and the skin burning factor."

Dagda smiled again, a smile that was really starting to get on Harry's nerves. "However you do. Inside of you is a link to the ancient magic of the Tuatha Dé Danann."

"Why would I have a link to the magic of the Tuatha Dé Danann inside of me?" asked Harry. He was starting to feel very confused. First of all was he dead? If he was then this was a cheap ass version of Heaven. Or maybe he was in the other place and this guy was Lucifer.

"The link comes from your mother," answered Dagda. Harry opened his mouth to ask what he was talking about. He longed for answers about his mother's past. He needed answers to explain the power inside of him that allowed him to see what others couldn't. Dagda held up a hand stopping Harry from asking. "I will not answer your question now, little one. That is one best suited for a time when you are ready. What I can tell you is this. Lily, too, had a link to the Tuatha Dé Danann. She was aware of it but she knew not its origins."

"So…" said Harry slowly. He had to make sure he was hearing this right. All of it sounded too implausible to believe. "Because of my mother, some part of me can access the powers of the Tuatha Dé Danann, also known as the Faerie Gods, your people."

Harry opened his mouth to ask a plethora of other questions but Dagda just graced him with that smile again that made him stop. Gracefully the tall being bent down and gently kissed the scar adorning Harry's brow. Like Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer's nose, the scar lit up, glowing with the same golden glow as Dagda's identical mark. Suddenly, a ring of white light came down from above. It traveled down Harry's body vertically, like a scanner or something, leaving visible differences where it touched. Harry closed his eyes as the feeling of being caught in a summer breeze swept over him.

As the light left his face, he now sported long triangular markings, going from ear to cheek bone, two on either cheek. The light continued traveling down his body still making changes. When it finished, which was less than a minute later. Harry wore white pants, with a baggy white shirt that didn't move all about thanks to the brown forearm bracers he wore. Over this went a long, beige sleeveless tunic with a high collar, the edges trimmed in brown. A long length of red cloth went over his shoulders, with the end hanging down to his brown belt. On the front of the hanging end was a symbol of a squiggly line with a short vertical line underneath that. Harry didn't recognize it but he guessed it stood for something.

Dagda nodded at Harry. Something akin to prideshined in his eyes. "Now you look like one of my people. Do you feel the power?"

Harry scrunched up his face. He honestly didn't feel that didn't different. A little energized sure, but he got that same kick after drinking five cans of Jolt. Although, there seemed to be some kind of music playing just beyond his hearing range. If he tried hard enough he could make out a note or two but still the actual song eluded him. Looking at Dagda apologetically, he shook his head.

"Everything is connected, Harold," said Dagda. Harry was really amazed at his patience. "We live on the Earth and it holds a tie with all of us. The trees, the flowers, the building that you learn in, the molecules, the energy… everything is connected by the Earth. Everything is connected and you too are connected to a great power, whether you feel it or not."

Harry grumbled, crossing his arms across his chest. "Lets underline the not part."

Dagda laughed a low, rumbling laugh. "You truly are the product of the Flower and Stag. Close your eyes and open yourself up. Listen."

Nodding, Harry sighed as he gave it another go. His eyes closed and he listened. Nothing. He couldn't feel or hear a damn thing. Except there was that annoying song, that he could barely hear still playing beyond his senses. Trying harder, Harry listened with every fiber of his being. Suddenly, the song bust into being in his ears. Flutes, harps, lyres, ocarinas, he could hear them all playing in symphony the song of the universe. He could suddenly feel his tie to the Earth. A chord of golden light that was attached to a large ball of light, as big and brighter than the sun itself. Harry touched it then went beyond that. He went deeper down that cord tying him to the Earth. There was something else tying him to even greater power. Hesitantly, Harry embraced that unknown link. With a gasp he opened his eyes, and he didn't know how he knew, but he could feel that his eyes were glowing. Indeed they were. A glowing green from edge to edge, he looked otherworldly, adding in to the fact that his body was glowing with an aura of green light.

"Well fuck me," whispered Harry, shuddering at the power pulsing in time with his heartbeat.

"You feel it now, don't you?" Dagda stated more than asked. "The power of the Tuatha Dé Danann flows within you. Listen to the song of the green and let it guide you as it guides the destinies of ones on this planet."

"I don't understand," said Harry quickly, he was afraid Dagda would pull a vanishing act. "Why? How?" Harry let out a breath of frustration. "I have so many questions. I need answers. How is this even possible?"

Dagda shook his head and replied, "That answer is not for now. Trust me, Harold. In time you will know everything." His eyes grew said as he continued. "Some things you will wish that you never hoped to ever find out."

"What do—"

"Goodbye, Harold, my little champion," Dagda whispered, his form disappearing from sight.

Harry felt his body jerk and the scenery of the never ending space was gone. Voldemort cocked his head as Harry reappeared before him, glowing, eyes closed, and face serene. He took in the new clothes with narrowed eyes. The design was very familiar. His eyes roved up and down Harry's body till they locked on the symbol adorning the cloth hanging from his shoulders. Voldemort began to smile a chilling cold smile. This child, this boy was a servant of one the gods. Did those meddling Powers think that they could stop himby sending an agent of destiny that was barely old enough to do pre algebra? Things looked like they were about to get very interesting. He would enjoy ripping out this child's spine and wearing it as a trophy.

"You've gotten on my last nerve," said Harry, eyes opening, revealing their glowing green depths. "You can either get on your knees and beg for mercy or just let me kill you here and now. Your choice."

Voldemort shrugged carelessly. "I decline."

He raised his hands and concussive beams of ruby red light burst from his palms speeding toward Harry. Calmly, without even batting an eye, Harry raised his hands and a foot away from his body a blue translucent shield of light materialized, blocking the ruby red beams, making them splatter against its surface. Harry narrowed his eyes and concentrated with all his might on maintaining the outpour of power. There was so much of it just begging to be used, but it took concentration and mental energy to give it cause and direct it. Voldemort pushed his arms forward and the beam of ruby red light strengthened. Harry grunted at the effect it had on his shield. Through all of this, he could hear it. The song of the green, playing its glorious music, gave him hope and directions on how to use the foreign power. More by instinct than anything else, Harry began to chant under his breath. The words uttered from his lips were as foreign as the power he was wielding. As his chanting got louder and faster, pinpricks of tiny blue light began to coalesce in the center of his palms, forming into a softball sized shape.

"Diiieeeee!" Harry screamed, throwing the energy he collected.

It launched forward at Voldemort in the form of the most beautifully pure and intense beam of light Hogwarts had ever seen. It met the red beam head on; the room shook from the forceful collision. The ground rumbled and shook as the fighting beams scorched and tore up the stones. Shaking with effort, Harry poured my power into his beam, making it redouble and refocus, becoming even brighter. Voldemort was slowly being pushed back by the force of Harry's attack. His feet literally couldn't stay on the ground, as little by little he slid back toward the wall.

"This is for my parents, bastard!" yelled Harry, sweat dribbling down his brow, falling into his eyes.

His beam beat Voldemort's, completely swallowing it up. Light splattered against his body burning his robes completely from his body, and tearing into his hardened skin, flakes flying off into the air. His screams of pain were like music to Harry's ears. He reveled in it, the sweet pain filled notes urged him to pour even more of his power into the blast.

His scar was glowing with a frightening intensity, an outward sign of how much energy he was channeling and the effort he was putting into the ongoing beam. He wasn't listening to the song of the green anymore. Fuck that silly song and Dagda. He would do things his way, he had the power now, and this muggle hating fucker would pay for what he did to his parents. Harry if he would have listened, he would have noticed that the song had started to change to play notes that spoke of warning and danger, caution and forbidding. Harry was right, he did have the power. But he didn't have the experience with the amount of power he was wielding. To wield the power of the gods is not some easy feat, especially for one young and untrained. The amount of power Harry was channeling was never meant for mortals. Mortal bodies are not evolved enough to handle the strain mentally as well as physically. Harry was born with the ability to access the power of the Tuatha Dé Danann, but he was being rash and unthinking, too much at one time is never a good thing…

Harry could see the pool of magic he was channeling in his mind eye. Mentally, with cupped palms he was gathering the magic and using it to his will. But after using it in such a way he was exhausted. Now it was like his hands were splayed open and the magic kept escaping through his fingers. Slowly, the most powerful magic ever produced in Hogwarts began to flicker and go out. A half second later, Harry fell to his knees exhausted. Sweat covered his face, his eyes were still glowing but less bright, and his scar was golden, but no longer glowing. Dizzy, Harry looked to Voldemort, his vision blurring and dimming, as unconsciousness threatened to swallow him up again for the third damn time in the same day. He was becoming a real wuss.

"You thought to revel in my defeat?" said Voldemort, slowly coming to his feet. He looked like he had been to Hell and back. His robes were completely gone revealing, burned, charred, blackened body armor that covered his entire body. His face was blackened in some places and patches of skin was completely gone revealing the under layers beneath. Limping, Voldemort made his way toward Harry. His heavy boots scrapped loudly against the ground. "Thought you could wield powers of the gods? I will teach you to try and rise above your station, muck. I will shred you. Rip your eyes out and feed it to you through your mutilated face."

"Hey, wanna see a trick," Harry grinned.

Eyes half-lidded, Harry gave Voldemort a tired, goofy smile. Summoning the last dredges of power he could gather and use to his will, Harry concentrated, listening intently to that damn song of the green. Honestly, the flutes were cute, but they were getting annoying.

"By the power of three times three, so mote it be. I gather the elements to do my bidding…" Sparks jumped between Harry's fingers, as he glared at Voldemort from his position on the ground on his knees. He knew what this spell did, but what he was saying was completely instinctive. He knew but didn't know.

Volemort laughed softly. "Your droplets of magic for this spell will not be enough to harm me."

"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust." Harry gave a cry as Voldemort rushed toward him slapping him to the ground. He was not going to give up just yet. He still had some fight in him yet. "Here the voice of my song…" Voldemort pinned him down with his massive hand, dislocating his shoulder in the process. "REVENGE OF THE FEY!"

Voldemort laughed softly as he backhanded Harry. He flew across the floor body tumbling and rolling across the ground. A sickening crack was heard as his right arm broke then finally a low thud resounded through the room, as his head collided against the stone floor, the pain knocking him out. Laughing, Voldemort walked over to Harry's body. He had just enough time to see Harry's palm, still alit with dancing sparks, fall to the ground completing his last spell. Suddenly, a loud explosion was heard, and the ground began to splinter and crack quickly at his feet. In a long line the cracking ground, raced past Voldemort.

Voldemort screamed as he realized what was happening.

The fissure reached the Mirror of Erised. There was silence, and then in a deafening boom it exploded shattering into pieces of glass and wood. Somewhere deep within Harry's coma like state his inner self was smiling. His last thought he had before blacking out cycled through his mind…

_Immortality my ass._


	17. Angelic Equation

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter either. It belongs to its creator J.K. Rowling and probably Warner Bros. too. I'm not too sure about that. This piece of literature is simply the work of a humble fan. I also credit Laurell K. Hamilton for various themes, subjects, or references that I may use. It won't be a crossover but certain elements from the series will be used.

* * *

:Author Notes:

This will be leaning more toward alternate reality. It will have the same characters just a different spin on things. If you're not a fan or strong cursing or maybe even violence and bloodshed then there is a good chance that this story isn't for you. Also, for those of you who didnt know. Voldemort was modeled after Illyria from Angel. Some of the lines from in this story are taking directly from Angel season 7 from the Illyria episodes

* * *

"The golden moments in the stream of life rush past us, and we see nothing but sand; the angels come to visit us, and we only know them when they are gone." George Eliot, _Novelist_

Potter

Chapter Sixteenth: Angelic Equation

By: Water Mage

Terry looked down at his wrist. His watch silently ticked along, its glass face slightly reflecting his face's scared expression. Harry was late. The two hour mark had passed almost thirty minutes ago and still there was no sign of Harry. This was bad, very bad. If he knew Harry, and he did, trouble was no doubt on his heels by now. A lock of hair fell into his eyes and he irritably brushed it away. The sound of footsteps coming from down the corridor made him look up. Riley came from around a corner looking serious and worried at the same time. An expression that he had never before seen on her face.

"Any sign of Harry?" she asked, coming to stop beside him.

Terry shook his head, frowning. "No. It's been half an hour now. Something's wrong," he said softly. "I can feel it."

Riley sighed. "This is bad. Very bad." She stopped in mid sentence a thoughtful look crossing her face. She looked at Terry and he stared back, both thoughts were in perfect sync. "You don't think…"

"I don't know. But if there is one thing I've learned about him is that he's unpredictable," replied Terry, shaking his head.

Riley grabbed his hand, breaking into a run. "Come on then. If he's confronting Quirrell without backup who knows what kind of trouble he's gotten into already!"

They took off at a breakneck pace. Students weren't confined to quarters but mostly everyone, still scared that another vampire was on the loose, stayed within their common rooms. This was good for them, since that left the halls deserted, keeping anyone from getting in their way. The pace they were running at was a no stop for anything speed. Armor jumped out of the way and statues backed against the corner, as they ran by, leaping over sinkholes in the floor, and jumping over trick stair steps. What would have taken a ten or more minute walk, only took four minutes as the two neared the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom out of breath and more than a little winded. Taking a deep breath, Riley met Terry's eyes and seeing conformation, she eased open the door.

"Bloody hell!" Terry shouted gaping, mouth open, eyes wide, at the sight before them.

Directly in front of them, next to an old wardrobe, the wall was coated in blood. The drying, dark red fluid clung to the wall, dripping down to splatter against the growing puddle of gathered blood on the floor. The two kids stared at the blood, their faces quickly turning a pale shade than white. Terry, shaking, looked to Riley with horrified eyes.

"Do you think…this was…H-Harry," he stuttered then stopped, barely able to get the sentence out he gave up, staring at the blood stained floor and wall with horror.

Riley wrapped her arms around herself, her face full of emotions. She shivered suddenly a cold chill running down her spin. Fear bubbled in her gut, filling her lungs traveling down her throat like some bitter liquid that refused to be swallowed. She shook her head, denying what her eyes were trying to show her. It wasn't supposed to be this way. The three of them were supposed to go together. Be each other's backup. Harry shouldn't have gone alone and now, now he was dead. She paused, stopping her internal, downward spiral of grief. There was no body, only blood. Who in the hell said it was Harry's blood. Something akin to hope slowly washed over her still pale face.

She turned to the boy next to her, who had twin trails of tears falling down his cheeks. "Terry, wipe your face. We have to get it together."

Terry's eyebrows shot up, as he stared at her in amazed disbelief. "Are you daft! Harry's dead."

"Where's the body?" she replied simply, a small smile etched on her face. "There is nothing to say this blood is Harry's. It could be anybody's blood for all we know."

"Then where is he then?" asked Terry, trying to sound hopeful but failing.

Riley let out a quiet sigh. "I don't know. But we have to find him." She turned to him, hazel eyes serious. "You have to go find Professor Dumbledore. Harry said that he was going to his office, maybe he's there. I don't know. I'm going to go search the castle."

Terry didn't argue. It was the only plan they had. What could he say to this reasoning when he had none himself? Inhaling a gulp of breath, he spun on his heel and exited the classroom. Raising a shaky hand to her head, Riley let out a measured sigh. Hope. That was all he was running on at the moment. Determined, she left the room heading to one who would know what to do. The halls were still empty as she casually walked-ran down the corridors, up a flight up stairs, and around corners. Riley approached the door positioned between two suits of shining armor. The door flew open as her hand was poised to knock.

Mr. Matheson stared down at her, grass green eyes holding a dangerous light that normally wasn't there. The door opened wider and she stepped into the Professor's office. It wasn't decorating with anything, like pictures or any keepsakes. There was merely the standard desk, wardrobe closet and shelf housed with books. Riley turned to they flying Professor, who closed the door and leaned back against it, arms crossed he regarded her with a raised eyebrow.

"We can't find Harry!" she blurted out. Her nerves had gotten the best of her and her cool façade was broken as all of it finally got to her.

He stilled so suddenly, she would think he a statue. His body just seemed to freeze and his gaze turned dark. Riley felt a chill go down her throat as his blue eyes, so pale that they looked like chips of ice, settled on her. Snatching his wand from the sleeve of his robe, Mr. Matheson pointed it at a quill lying on his desk. Riley was barely able to make out the whispered word, "_Portus_". The quill on the desk started to vibrate as if the desk was shaking, but it in fact was not, and a vibrant blue light shone around it. Suddenly, as abrupt as it began the shaking and the glow receded leaving the quill exactly as is. Mr. Matheson grabbed her hand and as the tips of her fingers touched the quill, her body gave a jolt. A feeling like a hook pulling on her navel overwhelmed her, and then her world exploded in rush of colors and light. Her feet hit solid ground again and she fell over, falling face first on the ground. She spit out dirt and grass, her whole body shaking. Great heaving gasps filled the air, as her lungs worked in overtime to compensate for the lack of oxygen.

"What was that?" she gasped out looking up to Mr. Matheson, who looked down on her, the quill held between his two fingers.

Mr. Matheson hauled her to her feet. "Portkey. I'm sorry about that. I forgot that the younger you are the worst the disorientation is."

Wiping her mouth of the grass, she looked around her surroundings. They stood in the shadows of a row of trees. Not trees, but a hell of a lot of trees, a forest. Ahead of them, nestled between a rushing river and the forest was a two story cabin. In the distance, Riley could make out a familiar set of mountains. Those were the same mountains that stood near Hogsmeade. That meant that they weren't far from Hogwarts then. Wherever they were. Mr. Matheson cocked his head indicating she should follow along. His great strides couldn't be matched so she had to run to catch keep up to him. They made their way to the porch and she looked around quizzically. Why were they here? Gazing at the porch swing rocking back and forth by the wind, Riley's head snapped around as an electronic beep reached her ears. A small, rectangular section of the wood panel frame around the door had been pulled back revealing a keypad. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open forming a perfect o. Okay, this was… new. A little too James Bond, but she might as well go along with it. Matheson pressed a sequence of keys and there was an answering beep of what she guessed was clarification. He closed the hidden section on the panel and turned the knob on the door, admitting him into the cabin.

They stepped into the cabin and blinked. First of all, there wasn't anything in here that screamed 'I need a security system to guard my house'. Riley could recognize nice stuff here, but damn he was a little too paranoid. They stood in an average living room that one would expect a million other homes resembled. Footsteps sounded through the house and two people descended the stairs at the back of the room. Riley blinked in surprise, not recognizing the man or the woman before them. The man was middle aged with ginger hair, a pair of glasses, and had a dangerous air about him. The way he walked, so gracefully, simply spoke of the predator beneath. The woman had elbow length brown hair, steely gray eyes…. Riley blinked and then shivered….and entirely too much muscle for a female.

"Mark, what are you doing here?" asked the man, his eyes sliding from Matheson to Riley. "And why do you have Rilana with you? She doesn't have the necessary clearance to be here."

Riley stared dumbly at them, confused at the use of her real name, and bewildered by the fact that he knew her by sight. Since the fact of the matter is, she didn't have a fucking clue as to who he was, or the Amazon woman at his side.

The woman placed a hand on his arm. "Be quiet, Jeremy. Mark has a good reason for being here." She looked to Matheson. "What has happened?"

Matheson sighed, "The Little Lord is missing."

"WHAT!"

"I don't know what happened," replied Matheson frustrated. Frustrated with himself for failing then anyone else at the moment. "As soon as I found out he was missing. I and Riley took a portkey straight here. She is the one who told me the news of Harry."

Jeremy narrowed his eyes at Riley. She winced. It didn't take a rocket scientist to guess he didn't like that she failed in her charge. Looking down at the ground, Riley went through the story just as she remembered it. She told them of Harry's dreams, his powers, how he blamed Quirrell for Michael Corner's death, and finally the gathering they had right before his subsequent disappearance. The adults in the room looked at each other over her head. This was big. Bigger than they could handle. They had to make the call.

Riley put her hands on her hips and glared them. She felt so tired, and this was all too much too soon. She was almost near her breaking point. "Now I want some answers. Who are you people? What do you know about Harry?"

The woman gave her gentle smile. "What you have told us, most we already knew. I am Gabriel. You, Mark, Jeremy and I all have the same mission."

Riley raised an eyebrow, her body loose and ready for a fight just in case one of them tried anything. "Oh, what mission is that?"

Jeremy smirked, his contempt for her shown on his face. "Why, that's the protection and safety of our very own little lord, Harry McKnight." He looked down at her with his penetrating gaze. "Together the four of us are his silent protectors, his bodyguards. We are Shadow."

* * *

Todd and Dylan entered the office of Killian McKnight. Their thoughts puzzled on the unusual urgency that had been carried with the summons. Killian stood behind his desk, sans suit jacket, revealing a brown shoulder holster with two Smith and Wesson's gleaming in the sunlight that lit the office. Todd looked at Dylan his eyebrows raised in question. The other man shrugged in answer, he too wondering what had brought on the need for Killian to arm himself with his wonder weapons, twin stainless steel Smith and Wesson 1911 pistols. These guns Killian only used in the direst of emergencies. The last time he had used them was when a siege had been carried out on Harry's primary school, year and a half ago.

"Sir?" questioned Todd, stepping forward, and then stopping as he saw the dead look in their boss's eyes.

Dylan placed a hand at Todd's elbow, and stepped up to stand beside him. "Sir, what's happened?"

Killian stared down at the ground, looking as if he was visibly trying to control his emotions. When he looked back up they couldn't help but stare into his eyes. Killian's eyes had always been the most unique feature about him. They had an up-tilt that hinted at his Asian heritage, giving him an exotic look to his handsome face that seemed younger than his thirty years. Now, those green depths were dead. There was no other word for it. They bored into them, staring at them, but looking through them at the same time. Creepy as hell would be another good description.

"I just got a call from Shadow. Harry has gone missing. They think he's been taken," he stated, voice shaking with barely concealed rage.

Dylan and Todd's eyes widened at the same time. "Taken?" Todd blurted out before Dylan could even form a coherent thought.

Killian didn't even answer the question. Instead he gazed at them, eyes seeming to grow darker with each passing second, reflecting his black mood. "Gather the Archangels and ready the jet. We're going to Scotland. Pack every weapon and bring enough C4 to liquefy Buckingham Palace."

Dylan gave a low whistle. "What are we going to do with all that, sir?"

His lips twisted into a feral snarl. "If we don't find Harry then we're blowing that fucking castle sky high."

* * *

Riley stared at the three adults in the room. Quickly, they were strapping on Kevlar vests, sheathing knives on various parts of their person, and loading numerous guns with clips. These were the real guardians of Harry. She had nothing on these experienced warriors that exuded skill from real combat, unlike her own skill which was only from training, and not actual real life fights. She was nothing compared to them. Why didn't Killian tell her that Shadow extended farther than she had ever guessed. Riley felt so stupid for believing that Killian would ever trust her with the safety of his son. Sure, she had Mr. Matheson as her silent partner, but she had felt chosen… special. Now, she saw that Killian was right in having more guards. She had fucked up. Royally. Harry was in trouble, hopefully still alive, but most likely in the hands of one sick fuck. She glanced back up at the adults and swallowed. She thought them dangerous before, well she had upped her assessment. Dressed head to foot in black, weapons strapped to their body, and faces cold as ice they were a heart hammering sight.

Suddenly, the ground began shaking and a deafening noise reached their ears. Wincing, Riley covered her ears only partially blocking out the sound coming from outside. Her mouth opened and closed as she tried to get her ears to stop popping. She hated when that happened. Her eyes roved around the room till they landed on the adults. They stared at her apparently unfazed by the noise, and each wearing different facial expressions, which were directed at her. Mr. Matheson arched an eyebrow. Gabriel gave her a sympathetic smile. And Jeremy, he merely sneered at her, his disgust at her composure apparent. Cheeks flushing, Riley's hands fell from her ears dropping to her side.

"What is that noise?" shouted Riley, her voice raised to carry over the roar.

Matheson smiled grimly. "That would be the Ascendant. The boss's private jet."

She swallowed and followed the adults out of the cabin. The sun was going down, and its fading light cast an orange glow over the horizon of the long stretch of land. About thirty meters in front of the house, dirt and grass blew about as a long, sleek black jet hovered yards above the ground. They covered their eyes as the harsh gusts blew dirt around them and played havoc on their hair. The landing wheels extended from the bottom and unconsciously Riley held her breath, hair whipping about her, as the jet finally touched down. The door of the hull opened outward and stairs extended.

Immediately, men wearing clothing identical to the three adults beside Riley came down the stairs, faces stoic and movements military precise, as they filed down single file in a perfect column. As they reached the end of the stairs they broke off into two separate columns, one line going left and the other right. There were nineteen men in all, eight forming a line on one side and eight on the other. All of them stood at attention, hands at their side, and eyes doing the thousand yard stare. Two men walked down the stairs next, their eyes scanning their surroundings. Riley knew they weren't looking at the scenery. These two were checking for signs of possible threats. The duo seemed different then the others, cautious, vigilant. They carried themselves with an air of authority, like they had seen it all. Probably had too. Warriors through and through they were.

"The Angels of Death," Gabriel murmured softly, part awe and part surprise.

They stepped off the stairs and moved till there was about a foot of distance between them. All the while they kept their eyes forward, bearing as perfect as any officer serving in the Queen's army. Briefly, Riley wondered if they were ex military. Their posture reminded her of her grandfather who was a retired Colonel. Her grandmother, when speaking of her husband, always said that "you can take a man out of the army but you can't take the army out of the man". The training you go through is drilled in your head, becoming part of your mannerisms, even carrying over into your civilian life. Riley felt more than saw the others go ramrod straight. She dragged her eyes from the Angels of Death and looked up till her hazel eyes met sharp green eyes. Killian came down the stairs, dressed the same as the others, wearing all black, with guns secured in shoulder holsters and thigh holsters. His long hair was tied back, so the first thing you noticed about him was his face. Riley's mouth went dry as those green eyes bored into her, making her feel like she was drowning. She shuddered, and then looked away from that chilling, accusing gaze. He was definitely not happy.

"Gabriel, report," said Killian, his voice laced with command.

"Sir, the situation has been analyzed and we have a strong theory that the Little Lord has been kidnapped by his Defense teacher, Professor Quirrell."

"Do you have any idea at all where he is?" asked Dylan.

Matheson stood at attention as he gave his report. "I have an idea. When Riley began reporting to me about Harry's suspicions of Quirrell, I began to watch him myself. He seems like a bumbling fool, but below that personality lies something else. I think he may be after an object of great power that's hidden inside the castle. Harry I think got in his way, so I'm guessing he's got him hidden somewhere."

"Object of great power?" Killian asked, frowning. "What exactly?"

"Have any of you ever heard of a Sorcerer's Stone?" Matheson questioned, looking around those gathered. Not getting an immediate response, he continued, "It also goes by the name of the Philosopher's Stone? Even muggles have heard tales of it."

Todd nodded, his gaze turned inward, recalling forth a memory. "In all the old fairytales, Alchemy is generally defined as an art which aims to change impure metals into silver or gold. The goal of alchemy, called also the Art, is the "Philosopher's Stone". The Stone was viewed as a magical touchstone that could immediately perfect any substance or situation. Like for say, turning metal into gold," he recited this all in a lecturing tone, showing that he was way smarter than he looked. He was more than just muscle. "The Philosopher's Stone has been associated with the _Salt of the World_, the _Astral Body_, the _Elixir_, and even _Jesus Christ_. It is said the _Elixir_ the stone generates has essentially the same ability to perfect any substance. When applied to the human body, the _Elixir_ cures diseases, and restores youth and lengthens life, or even gives immortality."

Killian raised a thin eyebrow, and said, "I assume this is going somewhere."

"We have a Philosopher's Stone hidden at the school. I only just recently formed an idea that Quirrell may be after it. If we have to start looking somewhere, I would say that's our best bet," replied Matheson. "And if he's there then most likely…"

"Harry is there," finished Killian. He looked into Matheson's eyes, gaze unwavering and deadly serious. "Get us into that castle."

He grinned in answer, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Anything you say, Boss."

Matheson meant it too. Between him, Gabriel, and Jeremy, who were also wizards, they managed to turn a fallen log into a portkey. It wasn't a small act of magic, since it took the three of them combined to work the magic properly onto something big enough that would transport the twenty plus people onto Hogwarts grounds, particularly, Mr. Matheson's office. Funny thing about Hogwarts wards, you couldn't apparate in or out, but you could portkey in and out easily enough. It had something to do with modulating, harmonic frequencies and that portkey transportation being more about folding space around you and not actually displacing molecules, like apparation. This wasn't necessarily a security risk upon Hogwarts, since portkey's weren't generally used without Ministry authorization, and it took an adept wizard to even create one. Gabriel had tried to explain the process to them but they lost themselves in the metaphysical specifics. Only Todd had managed to understand her explanation word for word. Killian, one of the brightest men whom ever graced a boardroom, normally would have gotten it too, but his mind was occupied with thoughts of Harry. He busied himself with checking over the Archangels, making sure they were properly equipped and had weapons in top functional capability.

Riley tried to help in any way that she could, but she had only managed to get in the elder wizard's way. So feeling useless, she stood to the side wallowing in dejection. A hand on her arm made her look up. Uh oh. Riley swallowed and instinctively became tense as she looked into Killian's eyes. He was going to kill her. Fuck. She hadn't even ever got to kiss a boy or even kick one in the balls. It sounded silly and was a random thought to have, but hey a girl's got to have a goal.

"No need to be scared," Killian said calmly, dropping his hand from her arm. "I know what you think. I don't blame you for what has happened. I know my son, and I'm guessing that he rushed ahead and confronted Quirrell without waiting for backup. You did your job and reported him gone as soon as you knew."

Riley nodded. She couldn't find words. She wanted to say something at least, instead of looking like a total idiot. All she could do was nod dumbly and barely manage to stutter out a thank you. Now, normally she wasn't a wuss. But dammit, Killian was intimidating as hell. Killian seemed to sense her unease and gave a comforting pat on her arm. He titled her face up to meet his and she reluctantly met his eyes. Those green eyes sucked her in and she found herself unable to look away. It seemed those glittering, green eyes were measuring her worth, looking at her from the inside out. Well, at least she now knew where Harry picked up his stare from.

Finally, Killian spoke, seeming to find what he was looking for in her gaze, "There is something that I need you to do for me. When we get to the school. Find the Headmaster and tell him what's going on."

"Sir," said Riley, feeling her heart sinking. She shook her head. He was trying to get rid of her. This wasn't fair. She was Harry's guardian, or at least one of them. If anybody deserved to be in on the rescue mission then it was her. "I already sent Terry to find Professor Dumbledore! I need to go with you to find Harry."

Killian held up a hand to stop her protest. "Think about this. Terry doesn't know what we know. Dumbledore needs to know that Quirrell has Harry and that he's after the stone. I bet that's been his goal this whole year," Killian said the last sentence with a contemplative tone. He shook the thought off, getting back to business. "According to the letters from Harry, Quirrell is powerful. Powerful or not, I know anything with a heartbeat will fall to a bullet. But we don't know if he already has the stone or not, and if he does I don't think bullets will do much except get on his nerves. That's why we need Headmaster Dumbledore. He's supposed to be most powerful wizard in this little community."

Sighing, feeling the fight drain from her at his reasoning, Riley nodded, "Understood, Sir."

It was thirty minutes later that Riley was going one way down the silent corridor of Hogwarts, and the rescue group was going another way. Her mission was to inform Dumbledore and send him their way. Their mission was simple. Find Harry and blow Quirrell's brains out the back of his skull. It was a tall order, but they had rescued Harry from other life threatening situations before. They just hoped that they weren't too late. They had gone into missions with less intel before, but magic hadn't been a factor then. Now the probabilities of shit hitting the fan had became astronomical. Matheson led the group through tapestries, revolving walls, and behind paintings, taking every secret passage that he knew of to avoid detection. They reached a staircase that led up the third floor and then they met someone. Matheson at point held up his hand to signal the others to step into the shadows. Like the trained professionals they were, the Archangels and Killian blended into the shadows as if born from them.

The group of twenty four moved quieter than the softest breeze. How they managed to sneak through the castle unnoticed was a feat in itself. They were just that good. Their footsteps were silent and their movements quick. It was easy to believe they had done this before. Finally, they came to a door that was slightly ajar. Matheson held his finger to his lips and spoke in a whisper.

"This room holds the trapdoor that leads down into the secret tunnels. Keep in mind what I said earlier, Fluffy sounds cute but this damn dog is vicious." He looked around at their determined faces. "We need music to put him to sleep, and then we all can go through the trapdoor down into the tunnels. Remember don't struggle against the Devil's Snare. That is the key to it releasing you."

They nodded.

It had been decided earlier that Gabriel would enter first and immediately start singing to calm down the beast, Fluffy. When they heard this it sounded like a pretty solid plan. So, when Gabriel pushed open the door and they were greeted with the sight of a huge, monstrous dog, they were a bit…surprised. It took up the entire room, ceiling to floor. Its three heads swiveled their way, their sudden appearance taking it by surprise. A second later, it recovered and was spitting and growling, all six pairs of eyes turned their way. Gabriel overcame her burst of fear and quickly began to sing. Slowly at first then faster, as panic settled. Fluffy's eyes twitched and he blinked as if weights had been attached to his eyelids. Slowly, he began to sway. Gabriel, still singing, swung her head around and gave Matheson a look. A very pointed look that said clearly, _wasn't the dog supposed to drop like a rock fast asleep._ He shrugged in confusion, eyes sweeping along the room, finding a tall harp near the trap door that lay open in front of his back paw.

"I think he's already had his nap for today," said Matheson in answer, pointing toward the harp.

Killian and the Archangels waiting outside the room looked at the giant dog in apprehension then at Gabriel. She had been singing for a few minutes now and the dog still had not fallen asleep. In fact, Fluffy now seemed to be shaking his head roughly, the effect of the music was evidently wearing off. Killian ground his teeth together, irritation and dismay weighed down heavily upon him. They didn't have time for this. Even moment they spent here was another second that Harry could be lying somewhere, hurt, bleeding, helpless.

"We don't have fucking time for this," Killian snapped, frustrated.

He stalked forward through the door. Smoothly, his guns were drawn and before he even registered what happened, he was shooting. Aiming for the heads, Killian felt all emotion leave him as he fired into the beast. The twisted, mutated abomination whined pitifully as hot pieces of lead tore into flesh. Its body jerked and twisted as each bullet hit, spilling thick blood along the floor. See, Killian had come prepared. Both guns were loaded with Glazer Safety Rounds. Glazer Safety Rounds will kill a man if you hit him anywhere near the center of the body. The hole will be too big for the body to keep going. If you hit a person in the arm or leg with Safety Rounds, it will take off that arm or leg. Right now, more than anything, he would really like to see Quirrell take a bullet in the chest and see if he would get back up. Fun.

Breathing real deep, Killian sighted up his arm. He squeezed and the top of the middle head exploding, raining bone and brain down everywhere. The ground shook as Fluffy collapsed onto the ground, dead. So much blood covered the ground and the walls too. Blood and meat like bits of hamburger meat stuck to the ground. Soon, the smell would come and the room would smell like actual hamburger. The smell so thick that it clung to the back of your throat, staying with you even when you breathed fresh, clean air.

Killian turned to the Archangels still waiting outside the door. "Let's go."

He walked toward the trapdoor. Scanning the dark drop below with his guns still held in hand, Killian holstered them, and then with a held breath he stepped forward. He dropped like a rock into the abysmal darkness.

* * *

Voldemort turned smoldering, red eyes onto the destroyed pieces of the Mirror of Erised. Gone now was his chance of reacquiring his true body and power. He was condemned to this mortal shell that was incapable of sustaining his true glory. Once, he walked between realms. Traveling all of them, gaining knowledge and inflicting suffering as he pleased. Realms of pain, torment, and everlasting fire, hells. Blood filled lakes and pleasure ridden glaciers. Realms where lust and hope were one. Now, now he was stuck. Sentenced to this existence where he was stripped of his full power, limited to this one small realm filled with magicless mortals. Motes of dust. Mayflies who die so soon after their born they might as well not live at all. The world was full of them. They ruled the Earth, ignorant of the true power hidden from them. The mortal humans would last for millennia like roaches, crawling and infesting every crevice and corner of the world. Voldemort's eyes had been opened. The world needed to be destroyed of the muck. He knew what he had to do. He would summon his army and recreate the world, exterminating the muck and raise his kingdom from the ashes. Oh yes, he had work to do. Red eyes flicked downward to where Harry lay, beaten and bruised, next to a pillar.

He knew where he had to start first.

His head cocked to the side as he ran his eyes over Harry's unconscious body. The boy had lost his connection to the Song of the Green, reducing him back to his original state. Gone was the glowing, lightning bolt mark on his brow, ceremonial clothes, and markings on his cheeks. He was a pitiful site, lying on his side, bloody, arm at an unnatural angle, and breath coming out in a haggard rhythm. Voldemort stalked toward the battered child. He knelt down, hand extending out to grasp Harry's neck. Right before touching skin he stopped his movement. Oh no, he would not make that same mistake twice. Extending his senses outward, Voldemort hissed at what he found.

"A protection mark," Voldmort muttered, senses seeing the glowing aura covering Harry. "Seeped into your very bones, sown into your soul. Your mother called on ancient powers for this. I was right to suspect she was more than a mortal. Oh yes, she was so much more to summon such powers. But I wonder did she, herself even know what she was." He stood up in one fluid motion, his red stare still trained on Harry. "Nothing of me can touch yours without searing my flesh." Voldemort smirked. "But my power knows no such bounds."

He held up his hands, palms up. Sparks of jade light jumped and fizzled above hands. Pointing his eerie, green glowing palms at Harry, he sneered at the unconscious boy. "Avada Kadev—"

_Boom!_

The entire room shook and Voldemort stumbled backward. The quake came again then once more, and then suddenly the great doors of the chamber blew open inward, throwing smoke and debris through the air. Voldemort stared up into the smoke. He could make out shadows through its thick vapors, but no visible forms. Finally, the smoke cleared and his eyebrow raised upward, the only surprise shown on his stoic face. His inhuman face. His face was like a blank canvas, the barest of emotions only peaking through, when times of intense feelings occurred. Almost like he didn't know or forgot emotions and how to express them.

"Get the hell away from my son, bitch."

Silhouetted in the doorway was Killian with the Angels of Death on either side of him. The Archangels had fanned out in front of their lord and his bodyguards. Each and every one of them had their weapons out and sights aimed on the Dark Lord. More than one pinpoint of red light appeared on Voldemort's form. Laser sights, spiffy. Try to get away from that. Voldemort took a step forward in their direction and dozens of guns being cocked echoed through the chamber.

"I was not aware that human spawn were even able to see this hive…" said Voldemort. That hollow, emotionless voice reverberated loudly over the silence. "…Yet alone able to penetrate its defensives."

Killian's eyes were just as hollow as Voldemort's voice. They were deep, endless. Those jade eyes stared into the Dark Lord, boring into him with a fiery intensity. "I said; get the fuck away from my son, asshole."

"I decline," replied Voldemort bored, as if they were flies. "Bleat at me no longer."

Killian smiled. A not so good smile, given that that bright, false smile didn't reach his eyes. This smile was purely feral, for his eyes remained dead. "This ends now."

"I think that I may have to agree with that assessment."

Albus Dumbledore glided into the room, standing side by side Killian. The crime lord didn't take his eyes off Voldemort. Dylan however now had his gun trained on the aged wizard who appeared so stealthily. Killian nodded inwardly. Good boy. They didn't know who was friend or enemy in this place. Dumbledore's long gray beard was tucked into the belt around his waist. Royal purple robes and the ever present half moon spectacles gleamed in the fires of the torchlight.

"Albus Dumbledore, my old teacher," Voldemort remarked. "Still alive?"

Dumbledore nodded, eyes a deeper blue than normal. Power was being pulled together; its only outward effect was the darkening and more vibrant intensity of his eyes. He shook his head at his former pupil. "You have truly lost yourself to darkness, Tom," he said, sadly. "Becoming one with an Old One? Surely, you never meant to be a house for an ancient demon just for power."

"Do not presume to lecture me as if you are my superior, my elder," Voldemort snapped, rage coming over his usual stoic face. His red eyes stood out sharply in contrast to his pale, pale skin. Like rubies against marble. " Do you know what you were when I was young? Your species were the muck at our feet. We called you the ooze that eats itself. You were pretty at night. You sparkled, and you stank. You still stink of it!"

Dumbledore gave him a look of pity. "You don't even know where you stop and where the demon inside you ends. It has completely taken you over from the inside out." Dumbledore sighed, closing his eyes as if the weight of the world weighed on his shoulders. "I fear that the boy I knew, Tom Riddle, is truly lost."

Killian finally took his eyes off of Harry's beaten body. He let the rage consume him and he fed on it. He used it to guide his next motions and actions. Without even a thought except for the broken sight of his only son, Killian sighted up his arm, and then glared darkly at the Dark Lord. "Bored now."

At that, following their boss's signal, the Archangels and Killian McKnight opened fire.

Voldemort blinked and time for him seemed to come to a stand still. The bullets moved at the pace of snails, but even slower. However, what the Archangels saw was Voldemort's body blurring as he began to move. Totally pulling a Bart Allen or a Wally West. What a rip. Gathering his power, he prepared to strike out at the mortals. What he forgot was Dumbledore had some not so mortal blood in his veins. He couldn't distort time the way Voldemort was doing, but he could see more than they could to a degree. Anticipating, the Dark Lord's next move, Dumbledore opened his mouth and began to sing. What left his lips was not a song heard in any record stores or over any air waves. This was music at its purest. The word that could best describe the sound was heavenly. There were no words for the song, only beautiful sound. Power was woven within the notes. Even Killian who carried not an ounce of magic in his veins shivered as the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. This was the song that all fey children heard in the back of their consciousness, in the depths of their soul. The very song that sung the plants into being and awoke all the creatures of Faerie. This was the Song of the Green.

The ground beneath the Dark Lord shuddered like the waves of the ocean. As if rising from the sea, thick green roots rose from the ground and wrapped around Voldemort's legs. Up, and up, till they encircled him up to his waist. They tightened, trapping him in its grip. He hissed as the vines throbbed, and little by little he could feel the power being drained from him. Voldemort howled in rage as his hold on time slipped and bullets pierced flesh. His body jerked and twisted as the hot lead tore into him, blood gushed like rivers down his convulsing form. Killian aimed carefully and fired again. The back of Voldemort's head blew out as the bullet hit home. Blood and mess covered the ground as bullets just continually rained down on him, turning him into an unrecognizable form of a man. Killian raised his arm and the firing ceased. Voldemort was nothing more than a mutilated body, still trapped in the overgrown roots. Blood and flesh surrounded the dead Dark Lord, an ever growing puddle of red that looked like it wasn't going to stop soon.

"Ding dong, the witch is dead," Dylan smirked. Seeing the incredulous look Todd shot him, he winced. "Sorry, I meant the _wizard_ is dead."

Todd's mouth twitched. Unable to form words, all he could do was shake his head. "We need to get Harry and get the hell out of dodge."

"We need to take him to the Hospital Wing," interjected Dumbledore.

His gaze was locked on Killian. The crime lord was huddled over Harry's body. His son's bloody head was lying in his lap, and so softly his fingers trailed down the young boy's face. Reverently, almost as if he was making sure he was real, the hands roamed over Harry's body. He checked over Harry's body, noting the injuries and being careful not to jar his broken arm.

Killian turned his cold eyes upon the Headmaster. "You will fix him. Heal him. Whatever it is you people do. Just make him better." At the man's nod, Killian continued. "If he dies…you do."

* * *

As the Medi Witch, Madam Pomfrey, poured liquid after liquid down Harry's throat, Killian paced the room. The Archangels had been sent back to the cabin. All of them. Even Dylan and Todd, though they protested. It was agreed that the least the wizarding world knew of them, the better. Taking his eyes off his son, Killian stared across at Dumbledore who stood by the window. The aged wizard beckoned him over. Dumbledore pointedly didn't say anything once Killian stood by him. The crime lord almost snorted. He was trying to be dramatic. Pointless. Killian was the king of games.

"Who are you really and how did you come to be here?" asked Dumbledore bluntly.

Killian raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm Killian McKnight and that's my son over there in that bed. I came to be here because I knew he was in trouble."

Dumbledore's blue eyes lost that twinkle. Looks like he was getting down to business now. Fun. "You know what I mean. Do not ignore the question. When Mr. Boot and shortly later Ms. Adams found and informed me of the situation I was not fully prepared for what I saw. Muggles facing off against the Dark Lord, unheard of. How did you manage to get through the trials and into the chamber?"

Killian smirked. "With enough C4 I can get past anything." The smirk vanished. He stepped closer till they were nose to nose. "You put my son's life endanger with this little game you were playing. You had to be fully aware that this man was evil when you hired him. No one is that incompetent. My eleven year old son figured this out; surely you have more wits than that. I swear to you that if you play another game like this again I will put a bullet in you. No warnings. No second chances. I will kill you."

"A threat. Mr. McKnight?" asked Dumbledore, his voice turned cold.

Killian turned his back on Dumbledore and walked to Harry's bedside, as Madam Pomfrey bustled off into her office. "No, not a threat," said Killian, his voice carrying through the empty room. "Since I have a feeling you'll try me and my word, call it a vision of the future."

Quickly, for someone his age, Dumbledore drew his wand. "What if I killed you right now?" he questioned, his voice still that eerie coldness that was most unusual coming from him.

Killian smiled a false cheery smile. He didn't know why he was even smiling in the first place. He just couldn't seem to stop. Turning his head, a lock of hair that had slipped from the band at his neck fell across his face covering his eye. Seeing, that jade green eye stare at him forced Dumbledore to reconsider his next few words. The stare, even with one eye, was unnerving.

"You think that I and my men strolled through this castle without thought?" asked Killian. He shook his head that smile still on his face. "You try and pull some magic on me, and my men will level this fucking castle. There's enough C4 hidden around here to liquefy the Tower of London. Try me, please. I dare you."

Dumbledore lowered his wand, his mouth gaped open like a fish.

"Uh huh, Merlin, that's what I thought."

* * *

Harry awoke in sunshine. It was half a day later and his body screamed in agony as he cracked upon his eyes, glimpsing the world for the first time in what he felt was years. He let out a noise of surprise seeing his father sitting next to his beside. The elder McKnight smiled widely seeing Harry awake. He ran hand through Harry's hair as the other picked up a cup and held it to Harry's lips. He sipped slowly, and then after having enough he turned his head.

"What happened? Voldemort?" asked Harry, his voice coming out in a soft rasp.

Killian smiled. "He's dead, kiddo. We killed him."

"Good," he smiled, eyes drooping then opening as he fought off the sleepiness. "Kevin? Okay?"

Killian nodded. "Yeah. Dumbledore went to the Ministry and spoke on his behalf. There's an investigation taking place, but Kevin has been set free."

"Good," he said again, and he fell back asleep.

When he awoke again the sun was setting and there were five people at his bedside. He grinned, feeling a hell of a lot better than he had the last time he woke up. Then he had been still feeling the after affects of the healing potions, and had heard with detached senses the full story of the incident from his father. Finding out that Riley and Matheson were agents, although surprising really wasn't something he hadn't expected from his father. The man was just too paranoid sometimes when it came to Harry's safety. Hermione, Riley, Draco, Terry, and Kevin grinned at him in return. Harry yawned loudly, causing Terry to snort.

"That's enough yawning from you. You've been asleep for almost two days straight. You only just missed your father. He left a few hours ago. Something urgent came up in the office," said Terry, smiling.

Harry wasn't hurt. He understood that when business, especially the kind of business his father did, then important things had to be put on hold. He gave Kevin a bright smile, eyes taking in his friend who looked better than he had ever seen. "I'm glad you're okay, Kevin."

"I'm glad you're okay," replied Kevin, shaking his head. "You were too brave confronting Quirrell like that. He kicked my ass and I have supernatural strength. You're lucky you came off, even though beaten to hell, alive."

Hermione frowned at Harry. "That was awfully stupid of you to go alone like that. You didn't have to confront him." Her frown broke and a watery smile was in its place. "I'm happy you're alright though."

"I think the same sentiments could be said for all of us," half smiled Draco.

Riley nodded, giving him a wink. "I always have your back, Harry." She said it in way that alluded to her being Shadow, but only she and Harry caught the double meaning. "But really you have got to give a girl a little more warning. I almost had a heart attack when we couldn't find you."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I assure you. That was my intention," he said dryly.

Terry smiled broadly. "I don't know about you lot, but this year was probably the best of my life." He clapped his hands together, rubbing them vigorously with an odd glint in his eye. "I can't wait till we start our second year."

Everyone gaped at him.

Harry shook his head. "He's truly gone mad."

And no one disagreed with him.

* * *

Harry was finally released from the Hospital Wing only days before the school term ended. It would have been sooner, but having a punctured lung and internal bleeding took a bit longer to heal. He wondered why… Gryffindor won the House Cup. Harry wasn't upset. After the shit he went through this year, winning some pointless trophy wasn't the be all-end all. If he could look around the Great Hall and all of his friends were alive and well then that was his trophy. They had made it through this school year, fine, well for the most part. Matheson and Riley got dirty looks from Harry but he wasn't holding their secretiveness against them. If they were under orders, who was he to fault them. His father had his reasons and that was good enough for him.

The events of the chamber weren't public knowledge but people had guesses as to what happened. But no one knew for certain the actual events. Harry for the most part tried not to dwell too much on the events. It brought too many questions to his mind. He had taped into a power that was far greater than any mortal should ever wield. He had used the power of the gods. The powers of the Fairie gods, the Tuatha Dé Danann to be precise, something that should be impossible. No one of mortal parentage should be capable of doing what he did. The only logical conclusion he could come up with was his mother was something not mortal, not human. Something that looked like a human and can breed with the human species but not. Not _Homo sapiens_, but _Homo arcanus._ God damn, his mother was a freaking Faerie. That thought, him being half-human, was going to take getting used to.

Sometimes Harry wondered how the magical realm would fare if they found out that their _Boy Who Lived _was in fact one of the creatures they loathed. How would they deal with the fact that Harry was half faerie. He had a feeling that they wouldn't take it so well. Hell, like he even cared anyway. His best friends didn't fit into the stereotypical category of what a wizard was supposed to be. He may have been given the title the _Boy Who Lived_ by them, but that wasn't who he was. He knew who he was and always would be. He was Harry Potter-McKnight, son of Killian _'Killer' _McKnight, Little Lord of London, heir to the Empire. He was no one's fucking savior. They could go save themselves.

End Year One.

* * *

Finished with Year One. I tried to do the ending Anita style. Is it working? See you soon for year two: Slave of Dragons.


End file.
